


So?

by OtherSideofHere



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dead Claudia Stilinski, Depressed Stiles Stilinski, Dylan O’Brien movie characters are Stiles’ older brothers, F/F, F/M, Hurt Stiles, M/M, POV Stiles, Sheriff Stilinski Knows, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski & Jackson Whittemore Friendship, Stiles is Pushed Out of the Pack, Stilinski Family Feels, Will Add More Later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-09 01:27:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15256407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtherSideofHere/pseuds/OtherSideofHere
Summary: Stiles is pushed out of the pack, that is, if he was ever pack to begin with. With his older brothers back, the Sheriff doesn’t feel like he needs to put up with Stiles’ lifestyle, so he is kicked out.But just because he’s without a pack, without a family, does not mean he is weak. On his journey with the supernatural Stiles discovers himself. He makes new friends with old enemies, learns lessons he wouldn’t have in a classroom, and maybe he learns that forgiveness is not just for others.





	1. You All Made Your Choice

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Guys, 
> 
> So I’m posting my first fic here. Please be kind, I haven’t written one before. So, uh, let’s get down to the notes.  
> 1\. Stiles is not living at home in the beginning, but he is also not living with the pack. He spends most his time at the loft though.  
> 2\. He is the youngest Stilinski, baby Stilinski. I’m using Dylan O’Brien’s movie characters as his older brothers. Mitch, Caleb, Thomas, and Stuart are his older brothers. Gonna be feels here, some Stilinski Family Feels.  
> 3\. Things will be explained later on, through flashbacks or dialogue. More characters will come later.  
> 4\. There might be triggering chapters later, there are/ will be mentions of torture and gore, panic attacks, rape, etc.  
> 5\. Please comment and let me know what you think.
> 
> P.S. Since this is the first chapter, it might be confusing

_One_

 

_Two_

 

_Three_

 

_Four_

 

_Five_

 

_Six_

 

_Seven_

 

_Eight_

 

_Nine_

 

_Ten_

 

Ten fingers. No extras. This isn’t a dream. This real. This is really happening.

 

“Stiles” Someone calls me, but I ignore it. I can’t deal with this right now. I shake my head side to side in an effort to clear it. “C’mon Stiles, at least look at me” The voice sighs, sounding done with me, sounding as if this isn’t a big deal.

 

Because me getting kicked out of the pack isn’t a big deal, not to _them_. I’m just a weak human who can navigate google and the library, and sometimes use mountain ash. Lydia can probably research better than I can, and Deaton has more power than I do. All I do is get in trouble with the law, get kidnapped, and get taken advantage of. I’m just a burden, more trouble than I’m worth. This is what they think of me, what they all think of me. And I hate it.

 

“He needs a minute,” someone else says, and I could practically hear the rolling of their eyes. “You know how Stiles gets, always dramatic.” They scoff, and for a millisecond I think Scott will defend me, but he doesn’t. The only thing I hear is the shaky breaths I’m taking to keep myself grounded. Why would he defend me, when he’s the one kicking me out of the pack?

 

Where will I go now? If I’m not pack, then I can’t stay at the loft. I can’t stay at Melissa’s, cause Scott’s there. I can’t stay at a friend’s house, because all my “friends” were pack.

 

“Oh my god,” I whisper, clutching my head. I pull at the hair I’ve been growing out. I can’t go home, not after... “Oh my god,” I whimper.

 

“Listen, it’s not that we don’t want you, Stiles” Scott starts, probably in an attempt to “nicely” explain why he’s kicking me out, probably turning it around so I feel guilty about being pack to begin with. “It’s just what’s best for all of us, you know, if you weren’t involved with the pack anymore,” Everything goes silent for a second, but it felt like eternity. The pack, as in them, as in not including me. Involved, as if I was only associated with them, like a business partner. I feel numb, and I feel stupid. My body stills, except for my arms that drop to my side, and my fists that ball up in my lap.

 

“Best for the pack, because I was never pack” I say slowly, finally coming to a realization. I hear Issac groan, as if he’s tired of my presence and crisis already. Well fuck you Issac.

 

“Of course you were pack” Lydia says, sounding as if she was telling a toddler “of course Santa Claus is real”.

 

“Do not speak to me condescendingly!” I snap at her, lifting my head to look at all them. I can feel the fury within me bubble like water on the stove, ready to spill out. Everyone seems shocked by my anger, slack-jawed, but Allison recovers quickest, eyes narrowing at me. She clenches her jaw before opening her mouth, probably about to spew something threatening, but I cut her off. “I am not a child, don’t you dare act like I am one” I glared at them. I take look around the room, seeing the face of people I once thought of as friends, as “pack”. Scott and kicked-puppy-dog look, Lydia with her false arrogance, Isaac with his I’m-better-than-you-now attitude, Allison and her hunter stare, Derek with his brooding I-couldn’t-care-less silence, Erica and Boyd in the corner trying to act like they aren’t a part of this. These are the people who I gave my sanity, my life up for? The people I gave my father up for? I mean sure, he’s alive and in the know now, but I don’t have him anymore. “I can’t believe I ever sacrificed anything for you people” I say quietly, rubbing my hand over my face.

 

“You?!” Allison spits, disgust dripping from her mouth. “I almost died because of you! Scott almost died because of you! We all nearly died because of you!”

 

“That was the Nogitsune, not me!” I spit right back, ignoring the pit in my stomach.

 

“Because you were too weak to stop it from taking over!” Issac butts in, as Scott glares at me, probably for being rude to Allison.

 

“So I’m the only weak one here?” I laugh bitterly. “Says the boy who can’t be in a closed closet without trying to claw who ever is next to him” I spit back, doing my best not to feel guilty when he flinches.

 

“Watch it, Stilinski!” Derek growls, getting off the wall he was leaning on.

 

“Or what? You gonna sleep with another one of Beacon Hills’ female teachers? Push my head to another steering wheel? Or how about you threaten to rip my throat out, with your teeth, again?” I roll my eyes as Derek flashes his eyes in warning. I turn back to Allison, “Or how about you? You nearly killed Boyd with you stupid arrows when you went on your mission withdear-ol-Grandpa-Argent. In fact, you let him torture Boyd and Erica!”

 

“I was in a bad place! My mom was killed!”

 

“No!” I correct her. “She was bitten, and then decided to kill herself rather than live as a wolf! Because of your family’s prejudice!”

 

“She wasn’t herself, Stiles,” Scott yells at me, and I literally laugh at him.

 

“Yes, yes she was. Because she’s a hunter, sure she changed, but that was Allison. Yes, Gerard had used her, but he made everything Allison’s decision. It was her choice.” I glare. “Unlike me,” I glare back at Allison, who had angry tears running down her face. “The Nogitsune controlled my body, my voice, and when we split, he took my image and made it seem like I was doing all those killings! I didn’t want to hurt anyone!” I yell, wiping my own angry tears away. “I almost died, was willing to die, so many times for this pack.” I laugh wetly. “All I ever tried to do was help you guys, even when none of you cared about me,” I shake my head.

 

“Obviously not,” Scott said, arm around Allison. “Not when you’re able to say those things!”

 

“I said those things because you all are acting like you’re all perfect, but you’re not! Do you think I don’t understand why Issac is angry? That I don’t get why he’s claustrophobic? I do! His dad should have never have hit him, never have beaten him and locked him in the freezer! Parents are supposed to love their children, not hurt them!” I cry loudly, ignoring Issac’s wide eyes. “You think I don’t know what it’s like to lose a mother? No matter how much you fought, no matter how angry they would get you, what they would say to you, that is your mom! It makes sense that Allison was in a messed up head space, and her grandfather used that to his benefit. Does that make it okay that she intentionally was hurting Boyd and Erica, or that she was letting Gerard torture us? No! But she’s been getting better, and tries to protect rather than hunt” I flail my arms in Allison’s direction. “Do you actually think I blame Derek for what happened with Kate?” I ask in disbelief, pretending I don’t see Derek freeze. “He was a kid, and she was a teacher, that’s statutory! Not only was she a murderer, but a rapist as well! And then Jennifer, or Julia, she deceived him too! I get why he has a hard time opening up and is angry, and I know how that can translate into violence! I mean, imagine if the very short list of people you slept with ended up using you and hurting your family! If you’re already confusing sex for intimacy, and the few people you let passed through your thick walls of protection end up hurting you, yeah, you’d be angry too!”

 

“Then why would you say those things?” Lydia whispers quietly, tears quietly falling.

 

“You’re telling me that you’ve kicked me out of the pack” I whisper back, stuttering a breath, eyes staring past her. “Claiming that I’m weak, using the Nogitsune as an example.” Shrugging, I look around me for my bag. “You all have weaknesses too. Derek has issues with intimacy and letting people in, Allison struggles being a hunter and a pack member, Issac has PTSD from the abuse he endured under his father, Scott sees the world in mainly black and white, and you, well, you craved approval by everyone, so you act dumb, and you think that if you cancontrol them you’ll get it.” I grab my bag and begin putting away my books and papers. “And we all have anger issues,” I sigh, feeling extremely exhausted. No one says anything as I finish packing up, each in their own head. I don’t feel the bond anymore, But it doesn’t hurt like it did last night, when I thought I was dying. Or this morning, when I was barely able to walk over here. I guess the pain from the bonds being ripped away from me is gone. Because I’m really just numb.

 

I’m panicked about where I will go, sure, but I’m mainly numb. Even my anger has been drained away. I feel hallow and empty and numb.

 

“Stiles-” Scott says, tone filled with guilt and maybe regret, but I shake my head. They wanted me gone, so I’m going.

 

“I’ll leave,” I say, voice void of any emotion.

 

“What about school?” Issac asks, eyes trained on the floor. “We probably shouldn’t interact there either,”

 

“Don’t worry,” I say heading to the door. “I won’t be there,”

 

“What do you mean?” Erica sounds shocked, finally speaking for the first time.

 

“I’m not enrolled at Beacon Hills High anymore,” My face softens when I see the look on her and Boyd’s face.

 

“You can’t drop out because of this! Stiles-”

 

“I had transferred before you guys even broke the bond,” Shrugging, I put my hand on the doorknob. “I’m signed up for online school, did it so I’d be more available for the pack, but, well, it doesn’t matter anymore now.”

 

“At least you can go home now,” Scott says, smiling, trying to look at the bright side. “I’m sure, since you’re done with the supernatural, your da-”

 

“I’m not “done” with the supernatural,” I say tightly, “I’ll just be doing it without a pack. I’ll be on my own now.”

 

Everyone, even Derek surprisingly, begins yelling in frantic tones, and if I could feel anything I’m sure it would have been comforting knowing that they were worried about me, to some extent.

 

“Stiles,” Scott says, puppy-eyed again, “Bud, you can’t do that!” He steps toward me, hand out as if about to touch me. I open the door and glare at them.

 

“Yes, yes I can actually.” I tell them, voice firm. “I am no longer pack, so I don’t have to listen to any of you.”

 

“Stiles,” Allison says worriedly, “You’ll die!” _Not might_ , but will, I think bitterly. I shrug.

 

“So?” I ask. “If I do, no one will even care. Huh, It’s actually easier this way.” I voice my thoughts out loud, not caring about the whines I hear.

 

“What about the Sheriff?” Boyd speaks for the first time, and I wish I could react better. Instead, I feel a lump in my throat that is hard to swallow down. I stare at him for a minute, refusing to let any tears fall and as I get control of my voice.

 

“Like I said, no one will even care. He’s got his other sons to take of and keep him happy. You know, the ones he actually wants,” I say bitterly. Shaking my head, I turn to walk out the door.

 

“Stiles,” Derek growls, and if I was still being being stupid I’d think that it sounded more like a whine but he wouldn’t care that much about me, “You can’t do this.” He says, emotion (probably annoyance) making his voice thick. Staring at the cold metal wall in front of me, I breathe slowly.

 

“You all made your choice, now I’m making mine.” I tell them softly, but firmly, before walking away from the pack I once thought I was a part of.


	2. Who needs that?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreams, flashbacks, flash forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the second chapter, full of flashbacks disguised as dreams.  
> 1\. Just to be clear, the present time in the chapter is three months after chapter 1. This makes it late November or Early December.  
> 2\. Majority of the chapter is in flashbacks, there are incidents of violence/ abuse, be aware  
> 3\. There is explanation of the brothers in the chapter, might edit it later  
> 4\. Right now Stiles is Homeless and sleeps on the rooftop of the community college gym. He showers in the gym and works at the campus bookstore, which gives him very little.  
> 5\. Reminder, I’m a Huge Sterek fan, but this is a slow-burn fic.  
> 6\. No pack in this chapter! Sorry!  
> 7\. Not-beta read, sorry!  
> Please comment and let me know what you think.

_“Shhh” someone giggles, I can’t see what’s going on, but I’m not scared, not really. I know this voice, it keeps me safe. “Mieczyslaw” The voice sing-songs, I feel a smile form on my lips. “Come on Baby,” she laughs, and I can’t help but to giggle in return. My laughter sounding younger and higher then normal, “Find Momma”_

_Momma_

_I open my eyes to find her, but she’s not there. It’s cold, and I’m outside, maybe in the preserve? I don’t know, I don’t like this. Turning around I try and see if I can spot my mother, but I can’t see her. A drop of liquid hits my face, startling me. Looking up, all I see is trees and grey skies. More water falls, from the sky and my eye. I try and walk my way out of the preserve, but I don’t know where I am. I call out for my mom, but she doesn’t reply. I don’t hear laughter anymore, only rustling bushes and owls. I don’t like this, everything looks the same._

_Help me! Momma, help me! Momma!_

_I run through the woods, tripping many times along the way. I can feel the rain-water soaking through my clothes, and stinging on my hands and knees, but I don’t care. I need to find her, I want to go home!_

_Oof! My foot catches on a root, causing me to fall down. Wiping the rain and tears out of my eyes I see a tree. It’s huge, bigger than any tree I’ve ever seen! Whimpering, I crawl over to sit under it, maybe it’s dryer under the branches. I close my eyes again and chant what I remember Momma teaching me._

_Ziemia, drzewa, ziemia, życie_

_Earth, trees, ground, life_

_Powietrze, wiatr, spokój_

_Air, wind, peace_

_Woda, ocean, deszcz, uzdrowienie_

_Water, ocean, rain, healing_

_Ogień, ciepło, siła_

_Fire, warmth, strength_

_Poczuj mnie_

_Feel me_

_Bądź ze mną_

_Be with me_

_Mój Iskra_

_My Spark_

_I repeat this chant over and over again, despite my chattering teeth and freezing ears, I begin to calm down. Eventually I am able to open my eyes._

_I hear the howling wind and curl up into a small to stay warm, still chanting despite my aching throat. Looking around, I notice two yellow lights and two red ones behind some bushes. I stop chanting, hopeful._

_Momma!_

_But it’s not Momma, it’s two wolves. One with dark black fur and red eyes and the other grey, with yellow eyes. I close my eyes and cry, chanting once more._

_Suddenly, I’m not cold anymore. I open my eyes to find myself by a fireplace in someone’s house. The room is warm, huge, but cozy. There are toys and books scattered across the floor, crayon marks on the desk by the window. Getting up from the pile of blankets by the fire, I pad across the wooden floor, towards the great big door. It was open a crack, so I want to see if I could sneak out. As out the door, opens I noticed voices talking in hushed tones._

_“Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Hale” The voice that sounds an awful lot like my daddy’s says, “I was so worried about Stiles,”_

_It is my daddy!_

_“His brothers have been searching around town, on their bikes and in their mother’s Jeep, I am so relieved you’ve found him”_

_DADDY_

_I run to his voice, crashing into the brown uniform pants I know police wear. I start crying, never wanting to let go, but I feel his strong calloused hands to lift me up._

_“Baby,” Daddy’s hot breath is against my face, a second before his lips are against my temple. I have never felt safer, as I cling to him. “What were you doing out there?” He asks, forcing me to look at him. For the first time, I notice we aren’t alone. Three men and a lady are smiling at us. I turn to my side and see Momma sitting in a chair. She has poofy hair right now, and dark circles under her eyes. She’s not smiling, not looking like the happy Momma I know. Her skin is almost as white as her dress._

_“I look for Momma,” I hear myself tell him. I watch as he freezes, as everyone freezes, and turns to the couch where Momma is sitting. I take another look at her and she seems upset, no, angry. Is she mad I didn’t find her?_

_“Claud?” Daddy asks, confused. In flash Momma is up coming at us, screaming. I close my eyes and prepare for impact._

_MURDERER_

_MURDERER_

_I open my eyes. It’s dark outside, so dark the stars don’t shine. There’s a buzzing noise next to me, and I see a big metal thing inside a fenced cage, signs warning not to touch. I look back in front of me. Momma is still in a white dress, but it’s a hospital gown. Dad is trying to calm her, but she looks crazy._

_“It’s the illness, Claud,” Dad says. “He’s just a boy, he’s not trying to hurt you,”_

_“He’s trying to kill me, Noah!” Momma screams. “Can’t you see by the way he looks at me! Noah, please! He’s trying to kill me!”_

_No no no no no!_

_“Momma?” I whimper, both heads snap towards my “Momma, I’m sorr-”_

_“Stiles! No!” Dad yells as Mom scream running at me. Worse than my mother’s fists were her words._

_“I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!” She scream as she hits me.“I SHOULD HAVE KILLED YOU FIRST! I SHOULD HAVE KILLED YOU IN THOSE WOODS!” My dad tries to pull her off me, telling me to run, but I can’t move. “LEAVE ME ALONE! WHY ARE YOU KILLING ME?!” Finally snapping out of my frozen position, I step back. Closing my eyes, I lift my arms to block her hits._

_CRASH_

_I feel a slight sting on my neck. Opening my eyes, I check what happened. My dad’s in front of me, checks red, eyes glazed, chest heaving. His eyes are no longer kind. I look in back of me, and that’s a whiskey bottle smashed against the wall. I touch my neck a flinch at the sting. Feeling around, I can a make out a pretty large piece of glass. I look at my hands and see blood, then back at my father, in shock._

_“You killed her,” he spits at me. “And now you’re killing me too.” He glares, before rubbing a hand down his tired face. “Dammit Claud,” he says, voice thick with unshed tears. “Why’d you have to leave me?” He turns back towards me “Now I’m stuck with this stupid spastic kid!” He yells. I press myself up against the wall, hoping he won’t touch me. “Why’d you have to be the one to stay?” He asks me, the sound of glass crunching beneath his boots. I whimper and look down as he get up close. “It SHOULD HAVE BEEN YOU” Dad screams in my face. “YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED! NOT HER! YOU!” He yells, punching the space next to my head. Closing my eyes, I wait for his fist. But it doesn’t come._

_When I open my eyes, I see four older versions of myself. It’s like looking into a time machine, only they all glare back at me._

_“This isn’t my fault!” I yell at Mitch._

_He’s the oldest. Once upon a time, I was his favorite. We even share the same name, Mieczyslaw. The people who know my name always questioned why I just didn’t go by Mitch, but there was already one Mitch in the family. I wasn’t needed. I could never replace him, any of them really._

_They were all either smart, or athletic, or both. Mitch was the oldest, and actually followed in the Stilinski men’s footsteps by joining the service. But shortly after Mom died, his fiancée was murdered in a terrorist attack. He was already out of the military, and decided on becoming some super top secret weapon to kill and torture other terrorists. His unit took down one of the most danger terrorist organizations about four years ago._

_Caleb, the second oldest, had a full ride to MIT, early, but he turned it down and decided to work for an oil company in Deepwater Horizon instead. Mom had warned him not to, but he didn’t believe her, putting it all on her being sick. The rig blew up a few months back and he had come home to heal, but while on the rig, he did what he could to save the crew. He is still hurting from the fire, and from the deaths of some of his best pals on the oil rig._

_Thomas, the middle child, well, he was a famous track star before he was taken. He was taken from college about five years ago, and after coming home his unit to find Tommy missing, Mitch went to the ends of the earth to find him. There was some government experiment thing going on, and a lot of young kids were kidnapped. They were hoping to test DNA of certain people to see if they could survive some sickness. They erased Tommy’s memories and everything, but it was all exposed and Mitch helped shut down and end the experimenters. It took a while to regain his real memories, and he was compensated by the government for this event. No one believes what really happened, though, but I know. I could see it in my dreams when I fall asleep around him. Now Tommy is a certified gym trainer, specializing in running and CrossFit._

_Stuart is a young computer engineer genius, already graduated University. He was accepted into the same University as Tommy, both with full rides, and Stuart with (extremely) early acceptance. When Tommy went missing, Stu did what Stilinskis do best, he threw himself into work. He graduated University early, all while hacking the government to help find Tommy. Because of his great work, Mitch was able to get to him, and expose the government, all while having Google under his belt and starting his own internet company._

_These are my brothers, sticking together through thick and thin, in the name of blood and brotherhood._

 

_But I don’t count, not since Mom got sick. They blame me, which is why they all left. Dad hates me because he couldn’t go with his other sons, he was stuck with me._

_But now they’re back. And Dad would rather them than me._

_“It wasn’t my fault!” I repeat, looking around the room. “It wasn’t even me! It was the Nogitsune!” I yell, voice cracking, sanity cracking. They came back after the Nogitsune happened, only to find the house empty. Dad at work, avoiding me, and me at the loft, avoiding Dad._

_Apparently, whatever Mitch and Tommy went through exposed them to the supernatural, and Stu found out by digging around for Mitch. Caleb believes them._

_But it is obvious that they don’t believe me._

_“I didn’t kill those people!” I cry, begging them to believe me. “Please! Ask Dad, he knows!”_

_“Who let the Nogitsune in, Stiles?” Mitch asks, gruffly._

_“I-I did,” I stutter, “But only because he threatened to kill Malia! I had to save her!”_

_“So you risked the world for some girl?” Stuart drawls. I shake my head. “At least a hundred people are dead, people from the police station, from the hospital, children! All so you could save one girl.”_

_“That is not what happened!” I scream, beginning to pant, because that is not what happened, not what I meant to happen. I can barely breathe, I need to breathe, I need to breathe, I need to breathe._

_“You nearly got Dad killed,” Thomas growls, one that could possibly give Scott a run for his money. I whimper, tears falling onto my face. I shake my head. “You are no longer welcome here.”_

_“No! You can’t kick me out” I scream, “You people left us! I was here with Dad, I cooked and cleaned for him, watched his diet, hid the alcohol! Me! Not you!” I scream._

_“And you got him fired, hurt, and nearly killed!”_

_“I did everything I could to save him!” I cry, “Why don’t you believe me? You’re my brothers, my blood, you support each other, believe each other, why not me?!”_

_“Because you killed Mom,” Caleb whispers. I stare at him in shock. He hasn’t said anything, the least involved in this fight. “If what the others are saying is true, you do have a evil inside you. You’ve always have, which means you could have killed Mom.” He looks me dead in the eye. “Whether you meant to or not,”_

_“No,” I croak, shaking my head. That’s not true. I would never! I loved her! No, no, no. “Dad won’t let you do this” I close my eyes. “Dad”ll save me”_

_“Stiles,” Dad calls me. Opening my eyes, I look at him. He’s sitting across from me at the dinner on Main. “This-This is for the best,” He says looking at the untouched burger in front of him._

_“Dad,” I whisper, doing my absolute best to hold back my tears. “Please, don’t do this,”My voice cracks from my tears. “I love you,” He shakes his head._

_“I’m sorry Stiles,” Dad whispers. “But it’s lose one of you, or all of them. And I just got them back, after almost ten years,”_

_“What about me, Dad?” I cry, no longer caring who sees. “Where am I even supposed to go? How am I supposed to live? I’m barely even seventeen!” Dad pulls out two white envelopes, thick as a brick._

_“The boys thought they could give young u some money, it’s enough to get you a place and hold you over until you find a job,” Dad says, smiling up at me, “or you could stay with one of your pack, until graduation, and then use the money for college. I mean, if you want to use my service job to help with a tuition discount, you already know all my information, passwords, and whatnot. I wouldn’t keep you from college, plus you still have your college savings your grandfather left for you.” I stare at the white envelope, never been so insulted in my life. I grab it, look inside and see at least two hundred hundred-dollar-bills. “Each envelope has two-hundred-fifty hundred-dollar-bills. Total of fifty-thousand dollars. Enough to cover four years of college. The boys pulled together to give it to you-”_

_“That’s all?” I ask, scoffing as I wipe the tears from my cheeks. “Only fifty grand?” I ask, as the Sheriff, because he can’t be Dad anymore, looks flabbergasted._

_“That’s a lot of money Sti-”_

_“Is it? Because you’re asking me to give up all I have left, so is it worth it? Are you worth only fifty grand, Sheriff?” I ask, not even feeling guilty when he flinches at the title. “You’re giving me this so I never see you again, which means never seeing Mom again,” I look away, willing myself not to cry again. “Do you think that’s only worth fifty grand?”_

 

_“We might see each other in the future Stiles,” He sighs_

_”And if we don’t?” I whimper. There’s a brief silence between us, the only sound being the traffic outside and the sizzling of the deep fryer._

 

_“Look,” He sighs, “maybe we can come up with some more money,”_

_“Damn your money!” I yell, causing everyone in the diner to freeze, but I could care less. “Do you think I could be bought out? That I’m some cheap sell out?” I yell. The Sheriff looks around, wide eyes, motioning for me to calm down, but I refuse. “Fine, you know what, I’ll leave. I won’t visit or ask about you, and I’ll stay out of your way. But keep the fucking money, because I refuse to be bought! I refuse to be responsible for this! I’m still a kid, but if you want to kick me out because you love and care for your other sons more, then that’s on you!” I yell, standing up._

_“Stiles!” He yells at me. “You know it’s not that!”_

_“Yes it is!” I search my pockets, “You’ve told me plenty enough!”_

_“I have nev-”_

_“Every time you were drunk!” I yell, finally finding the keys to the Jeep. The Sheriff freezes._

_“I-I, Stiles, I never meant-”_

_“Yeah, you apparently did!” I throw the keys at him. “Here! Since you wanna make like I’m not your son or part of the family I figure you’d want your wife’s Jeep back.” I leave, not looking back, even as I sob at the bus station a block away from the restaurant._

I gasp, sitting up from the rooftop of the gym floor. Looking around to make sure no one is coming, I sigh in relief. I look out the windows and see it’s almost daylight. Hurrying, I race to the showers so I can clean up before security or custodial finds me.

 

I turn on the water as hot as it’ll go, trying warm up. It’s been a few months since school started, and I spend most my time at the local community college. There’s WiFi, showers, and no one questions a 17-20 year old why they are out at midnight, and if they do, you shrug and say finals or Bio Chemistry. They just nod and move on. I’m actually a student here, taking a few online courses that’ll count towards college and high school credit. I have a small job at the bookstore, which is enough to pay for my adderall. I also sneak free snacks and drinks. Arizona teas and ramen count as a balanced diet, especially when your nighttime occupation involves running for your life. Stupid trolls.

 

But it’s okay. Who needs a bed, or a table? Or friends, or family? Or safety? Yeah. Who needs that?


	3. Survive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles meets someone from his past, but they aren’t like he remembers, but then again, neither is he.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the new update!  
> 1\. There’s a almost/ small panic attack  
> 2\. Retelling of what’s happened  
> 3\. Still no pack or Stilinski family in this chapter  
> 4\. Thank you for the support, hope you enjoy  
> 5\. Remember, this is a really slow slow burn fic

I breathe into my hands hoping my breath would warm them up just the tinniest bit. It’s cold here in NorCal, some people don’t realize that. I mean we might not a lot of snow like other states do, but we freeze too. 

In line at the post office, I shiver as I look out the window. I wish it was snowing, it’d be easier than this rain. My clothes are soaked, there’s rainwater in my boots, and I’m freezing so much my teeth are chattering. 

After I was kicked out of my house I used some money from my checkings to open a p.o. box, which was about a hundred dollars for a whole year, so it was a good deal. That made it easier for me to find a job. I-I had to forward all of my mail and accounts to the p.o.box, so I check it every day, sometimes twice a day, to see if I’ve gotten any mail. Or my prescription. 

It’s New Year’s Eve, so the shop closes early. The Community College I attend should be closed, but they are on a crammed winter quarter, so I am taking a few courses so I can stay inside the warm buildings, and I pick up all the hours at the book store from people who are on vacation. It’s nice to be able to my decent rain boots an umbrella, considering most of my clothes and stuff was left at the house. 

After I left the dinner that day, I was only able to get my laptop, my backpack, and Deaton’s books that he loaned me. I had returned everything after being kicked out of the pack, though. Deaton just nodded and went about his day. Now all I have is my laptop, but with rain like this, I worry I won’t have it for long. 

A cough startles me out of my trance I look to see no one in front of me, and mutter an apology before stepping forward. Using my key I open my box with a sigh of relief. My adderall is here. I’ve been running low. I have some letters crammed inside as well. I grab everything and stuff it into my backpack, zipping it up as I go to leave. 

“Stiles?” Someone says my name, and my head snaps up automatically. In front of me are a familiar pair of blue eyes and brownish hair. 

“P-Peter,” I stutter in surprise. I look around before looking back at him. He seems...better. Not angry, no crazy look in his eye, just surprised. I take in his thick long coat, black gloves, and fancy shoes, and I can’t help but to think he looks more out of place than I do. I can’t help amused upturn of my mouth at that thought. 

“Ahem,” someone from behind clears their throat and I move out the way in haste, watching Peter roll his eyes but do the same. He turns his attention back to me, head tilting to the side, and looks so much like one of the police canines that huff in amusement. 

“You don’t smell like the pack,” He says, and the small smile I had drops. I nod.

“Because I’m not,” I say softly. “Not anymore,” His eyes widen because of shock, but her shakes his head to hide it.

“Never thought you’d leave the pack,” he says slowly, as if hesitant of my reaction.

“Not my decision,” I shrug. 

“Oh,” He says, frowning. 

“Yeah, oh” I nod, pulling at the straps of my backpack.

“You don’t smell like your father either,” Peter says softly. I swallow the lump in my throat, nodding.

“Not my decision,” I repeat, looking out the glass entrance way. 

“What?” Peter actually sounds shocked by that. Shaking his head, he looks back at me. “Why don’t you catch me up on what’s been going on since I left,” He says, not really requesting. Shifting foot to foot, I sigh. 

“Didn’t you come in here for something, Peter?” He claps his hands like he forgot.

“I can get it before we leave,” He nods. 

I think about it for second,

“I don’t have any information about the pack, Peter,” I tell him, not wanting to mislead him. I really don’t want to see him leave, which is weird itself, but he should know. 

“I didn’t ask about the pack,” Peter replies in a tone I’ve never heard him use before, it sounds almost like he’s trying to comfort me. Surprised and almost wanting, I find myself nodding.

“O-Okay” I say.

“Great, now I just need to pick up my package,” He smiles. It’s not one of his creepy smiles, or fake “charming” smiles, but a genuine smile. It creates laugh lines around his mouth, under the trimmed beard he’s been growing, wrinkles by his eyes, that remind me of a certain law enforcement officer. I look down quickly, nodding. “I’ll be right back,” He says, walking away. 

Watching his retreating back hurts me for some reason, like, like he’s another person who’s just leaving me. I feel the tightness of my chest, and I know I need to get out of this building. Rushing outside, I hide in a corner. The wind blows some of the cold rainwater onto my face, and it’s refreshing. Like I can breathe.

I know I need to go back inside, I told Peter I would talk to him, I-I just need a minute. I count my fingers, twice, and nod. Not a dream, it’s okay. I close my eyes and let the rain wash over me a bit, as if cleansing the anxiety and pain away. After a minute, I am ready to go back inside. I know Peter must have heard my heart, heard me leave, but he must have heard me count and heard my heart slow, right. When I step back into the warm building I see Peter looking at the p.o.boxes. He turns to me and offers a small smile, one I return. If he really is hear to kill me then I’m pretty sure he’ll succeed, but if he is, it won’t even matter. No one will notice, and at least I won’t be alone.

I follow him to his car, before pausing. Did he say I can ride with him? No, w-what if he think I still drive the-

“What’s wrong?” He shouts over heavy pour.

“I-I don’t have a ride,” I explain.

“I kinda figured that when I didn’t see your Jeep,” He rolls his eyes, but smiles nonetheless. “Get in,” Hesitantly, I do as instructed.

“Sorry about your seats,” I mutter, putting on the seatbelt. Peter just shrugs, not even looking as he turns on the heater. The windows for up briefs, before the defroster kicks in. I look out the window in an attempt to figure out where Peter is taking me, and whether I have enough money in my account for food. Since school has started I haven’t been in town much, so I don’t know what, if anything, has changed. 

“I assume you want to go to the diner on Main?” Peter smiles at me, stopping at a red light. I know he means well, that he doesn’t know and therefore can’t be to blame for my reaction, but at the mention of that diner my stomach drops. I close my eyes, shaking my head from left to right, trying to ease the lump forming in my throat. 

“N-Nah,” I croak, trying to play it off. “I don’t really eat there anymore,” I tell him. I know Peter can smell my distress, which is probably why he doesn’t call me on it. 

“Okay,” He says slowly, as if talking to a wounded animal, driving when the light turns green. “How about I take you to one of my favorite spots?” He asks, peaking at me to gauge my reaction. I swallow, knowing it’ll probably be expensive, but that’s better than triggering a panic attack. 

“Okay,” I nod, and the tension in Peter’s shoulders eases. “Where?”

“A nice little Italian restaurant,” He smiles. I can’t help but scoff.

“You do seem like a pasta type of guy” I snicker, causing Peter to roll his eyes, but the mood is playful. It’s nice. 

As we drive to the outer edges of the city, we pull into an empty parking lot. For a second I worry about the restaurant being closed or out of business, but Peter just smiles as he gets out of the car, so I follow him.

“Only a select few can dine here,” He tells me as he opens the door. “And even less can afford it,” I swallow nervously. 

We’re seated quickly, handed menus, and given a pitcher of ice water with to glasses on the side. Hesitantly, I peek at the menu. Any color I had in my face drains, not a single item on the menu is below double digits. Most are triple.

Peter must have know I’d react like this because he tells me he’s treating.

“I invited you, it’s the least I can do,”

“Peter, no,” I shake my head, “It’s too much,” Peter hums before smiling at me, a glint of something in his eye.

“How about you repay me by answering some questions for me?” He says, “Truthfully!” He adds quickly. “Werewolf,” Peter taps his ears “Remember?” Biting my lips, I nod hesitantly.

“Okay,” I agree. We both smile a little. 

“Good,” Peter nods, “First question” He says, and I prepare for the worst. “And remember, I know when you’re lying,” He eyes me, and nod in response. “See anything you like?” I stare at him, confused. “I know I’m delectable, but I meant from the menu, Stiles,” He smirks. Blushing, I shake my head and look down at the menu. I literally haven’t had anything but ramen (and maybe an apple here or there) for over three months. All of these options look good, but might make me sick.

“Y-yeah,” I say, trying to find something I think won’t upset my stomach.

“Werewolf hearing, Stiles,” Peter tuts. I sigh.

“I’m just worried about getting sick,” I say honestly, “I-I haven’t been...eating a lot these days, and what I do eat doesn’t have much nutritional value.” I shrug, “I don’t know how my body will react.” Peter frown, looking at the menu. 

“How about I order for you? I think this one should be okay,” He says, turning his his menu over to show me. “Pasta e Fagioli with sausage. It’s like a soup, but with more vegetables, some pasta, and a little bit of meat,” The picture does look good,

“Okay,” I agree easily. 

“Great, now I think we’re ready to order,” Peter says, waving the waiter over. He actually orders in Italian too!

“So next question,” Peter says, turning back to. “And, Stiles, just because we’ve agreed to this doesn’t mean you can’t take your time answering.” He stares at me, until I nod my head in understanding. “Okay, so, why aren’t you with the pack anymore?” Peter asks me. It-It doesn’t hurt, not like it used to. I don’t feel this crippling pain at the mention of them, of the pack. 

“They decided it would be best if I was not involved with the pack anymore,” I tell him calmly. 

“How did you discuss this, how did you agree?” 

“One night I was laying down, trying to organize the bestiary I have been putting together, when I felt this horrible pain,” I cringe at the memory. I screamed and screamed, thrashing around on the floor of Beacon Hills High, as that was were I was staying at the time. “I thought I was dying” I tell truthfully. “I must have passed out, but when I woke I was still in so much pain. Despite that, I walked to the loft to meet the pack, because they texted about an emergency pack meeting. When I arrived, everyone was already there. They told me how it would be better if I wasn’t involved. I was too much of a risk. Too weak. We went back and forth over this, me pointing out everyone else’s weaknesses and them using the Nogitsune to back them. It was a pack decision,” I tell Peter. “Unanimous, because no one objected,”

“Not even you?” He asks, surprised. I smile.

“Apparently, I’ve never been pack.” I shrug. “I was always dispensable, more of an associate or acquaintance.”

“No,” Peter says, sounding horrified. “Was anyone else in pain that morning?” He asks, confusing me. “Someone else had to be,” He says, but mainly to himself. 

“I don’t think so,” I say slowly. “Erica and Boyd were silent for the most part, but everyone else seemed normal, fine,”

“But-But,” Peter shakes his head, like he can’t comprehend what I just said. “When a bond breaks, they hurt, so much so that it drives wolf crazy sometimes, and to loose all of them would kill someone!” He explains, eyes going wide, in some realization. He looks at me with sorrowful and sympathetic eyes. “But if the bonds were only one-sided,” He says softly “it would only hurt the person with the bonds.” I swallow, nodding. It kinda stung, being confirmed that I was never pack, but I already knew that.

“Well, guess that’s that.” I take a sip of my water. “Next question,” I tell him.

“Your father,” Peter says, hesitantly, and I give a strained smile. Before I can answer, the food arrives. I smile at the waiters and thank Peter. The food tastes amazing. I take a few bites before attempting to answer the question Peter never finished asking.

“They’re back, my brothers are back,” I say quietly, in a surprisingly calm voice. “All of them,” 

“I remember your brothers,” Peter nods, eyes staring off somewhere far away, “I babysat most, if not all, of them.” He gives me a mischievous smile, “Mitch didn’t like having a babysitter so close in age,” Peter tells me. I choke on my water, laughing. 

“Oh god,” I laugh. “I love that!” He just chuckles.

“So what does that have to do with...” Peter waves his hand in a “All this” type of way. 

“They were the ones who forced me to leave,” I say quietly. “Blamed me for all the stuff that happened to...the Sheriff,” I explain. “And apparently they know about the supernatural and that I was possessed by the Nogitsune,” I tell him, pushing around my food. “They said I had something evil inside me that attracted it to me, and that I killed my mom.” My voice cracks, and I clear my throat, before drinking some more water. The liquid calms my throat. “I told them that...he loved me and wouldn’t do that to me. They gave him an ultimatum. Me or them.” I sigh, rubbing my face. “He sat me down at the diner on Main and told me he was kicking me out, and not just out the house,” I snort, looking away, trying to will the wetness from my eyes to dry up. “They offered me fifty-thousand dollars,” I look back at Peter. He’s stopped eating, looking expressionless. “I said it wasn’t enough, there isn’t enough to fucking buy me out. But I agreed anyway, because he didn’t love me enough to want me to stay. He chose this, and I am just complying. I am just trying to survive,” We’re silent for a while, going back to the food, before Peter asks another question. 

“He kicked you out after the pack did?” I shake my head.

“No, other way around,”

“And they still kicked you out?!” Peter growls. I look around to make sure no one sees, but no one else is here. 

“Scott thought I would be able to go back,” I shake my head, “But I can never go back,” Peter takes a few deep breaths before calming down. 

“Are you staying with any other family?” Peter asks. 

“I don’t have any,” I tell, before rolling my eyes, “Well, technically I have my Grandfather, but he doesn’t count. He is in a nursing home and has Alzheimer’s and dementia. I-I’ve dealt with that before,” I look away, and back at Peter, “Besides, he’s a Stilinski. Not part of the family so...”

“A friend then?” I stay quite. Peter scrunches up his eye brows. “Stiles?”

“I don’t have any,” I whisper, humiliated and ashamed.

“Where are you staying?” He asks softly.

“At the school I attend now,” I say, not really lying.

“Are there dorms?” I stay silent, “Apartments?” When I don’t say anything Peter growls. “Where do you stay Stiles?” Feeling upset, trapped, I look around. I know I have to answer, but I just feel ashamed. 

“The community college,” I finally respond. Peter waits, though unhappily. I look down at my hands, clenching and unclenching them. “I’m finishing high school online, and taking some college classes. I sleep in bookstore that I work in, and shower in the gym,” I tell him. Looking up, I can see the sadness in Peter’s eyes. It makes me defensive, like I need to defend my habitation practices. 

“Oh, Stiles” Peter says softly.

“I’ve got a routine now.” I say quickly, as if explaining makes everything better.

“I sleep on the rooftop of the gym when its not freezing outside (or wet), but lately I’ve been sleeping in the bookstore’s break-room, working the opening and closing shifts so it’s not suspicious. 

I still have my clothes from...before. I never went back to the house, like I agreed, and when I sent Scott to get my stuff he only brought me a backpack with my laptop and Deaton’s books. My clothes consisted of borrowed jeans and shirts from the pack, but that was before I left. Now I mainly wear clothes with the school logo on it and sometimes jeans. The clothes sold in the bookstore, like sweats and sweatshirts in the school colors, and returns that no one misses, make up my entire wardrobe. Well, I did take a coat from the lost-n-found, but I waited a month in case someone was looking for it. Any way, I wash my clothes in the bathroom and dry them on top of the heater in the store of gym. 

I still shower in the gym, but I’ve also started weight training so it doesn’t look suspicious. Unfortunately, with the lack of nutrition (food) I don’t bulk up like most people would, but with the amount of cardio I do (running for my life) combined with the weightlifting, I’ve become pretty lean. I realized I actually like running, and can probably give Thomas, the runner in the Stilinski family (not that I care), a run for his money.

But that doesn’t matter...

Health matters. And hygiene. So I use mini shampoos and body wash sold from the store when showering. We have a bunch, most are expired, so I take them instead of throwing them out. 

Then I go back to the store and open it for the day, working a few hours before “buying” a package of ramen and Arizona ice tea. After a few hours I attend a biology class, then lab, or sociology class, then English, head back to the bookstore and doing some homework in the break-room before my closing shift. On the days that I don’t have college classes I do online high school work in the break-room before my shift. After closing I “buy” another 39 cent ramen and finish homework, or I go research supernatural stuff...or deal with supernatural stuff on my own. It’s usually the last one.

I don’t really talk to anyone besides my customers, my professor, and the janitor (who’ll leave a sandwich out for me sometimes). 

It’s not...ideal, but it’s bearable. I’m doing this, and I’m doing pretty well. My grades are higher than usual, possibly because Harris isn’t wrecking my GPA, and I have money from not having to spend it all on Roscoe, so I can’t really complain-” 

“Stiles,” Peter cuts me off, effectively ending my rambling. “You’re just a kid, you shouldn’t have to be homeless,” He says softly. I can’t look at Peter for too long, he has this look, one only a parent can have. And I don’t have one, so no one should look at me like that.

“I’m doing okay,” I mumble. “I’m surviving,”

“You know,” Peter says, “I’ve been gone for a while,” I nod. “Do you know where I went?” I scrunch up my face.

“I thought you went to Malia, but her dad visits the school with her sometimes, for some cognitive psych tests, and she’s never mentioned you.” Peter nods. 

“I tried at first, but she isn’t ready for a relationship with me yet,” 

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly.

“Not yet, but maybe one day.” He smiles. “But I went somewhere else,” He explains. “See, I felt like something was off, so I went to see Satomi, another alpha wolf. She retrieved my memories. What Lydia didn’t know, and couldn’t tell me, was that Malia is a twin.” At this news my jaw drops. Peter smiles. “So once I remembered, I tracked them down.”

“That’s...wow,” I say, still in shock. “How did it go?”

“Took a while for them to trust me, and we’re still working on it, but I think we’ve grown close. In fact, they’ve moved back here to be with me.” Peter rolls his eyes, “Okay, to be close to me. But we’re sharing an apartment right now before I have to leave for more work,” 

“I’m happy for you, Peter,” I tell him honestly, “You seem much better, happier.”

“Thank you, but you know what? I brought this up because they’re going to attending University near here in the fall, and because they’ve finished high school already, they’ve decided to take some courses at the local JC (junior/ community college) spring semester, starting in early February. There’s plenty of space for you to stay with us,” Peter smiles. I go still, because someone is actually offering to be around me. No one wants me, why would Peter do this. Shaking my head, I clear my throat.

“Why would you even want to help me, Peter?”

“That’s what pack does,” He shrugs, and my hear aches.

“Pack?” I repeat, hope filling my chest, but I push it down. “Thanks Peter, but I can’t,” I shake my head. “I can’t be pack. I-I, I’m evil, remember? I-I killed people! There’s something wrong with me, and I don’t want to risk-”

“Stiles,” Peter says very firmly, yet kindly, enough for me to look at him. His eyes seem honest and strong. “That was not your fault,” He says, and my eyes tear up, because it’s the first time someone has even told me that. “You were not in control of your body, and you still fought back.” He smiles sadly. “I know what it’s like to have no control of your body, to be stuck inside your own head. And,” he says softly, “My son does too. More than you know. In fact, I think that’s something the three of us can understand better than most,” I swallow the lump in my throat.

“I don’t even know your son,”

“I’m pretty sure you do,” He grins, as if in on a secret that I’m not, which I guess he is. 

“Who is it?” I ask, confused. He smiles at me. 

“Why don’t we go meet him?” Peter asks, standing up and walking to the front to pay for the meal. I bite my lip. I can at least meet the guy right? Nodding, I stand up and follow Peter out to his car. 

“Where are we going?” I ask as I slip into the seat, buckling up. Peter turns on the radio, to some old school rock station, before turning to smile at me.

“Home.”


	4. Top Bunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Different POVs  
> Follows Stiles around, meet Peter’s kid!  
> This chapter involves medical things I know nothing about!  
> Which means...Welcome Melissa McCall!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry for the late post, I got extremely sick this week and haven’t been able to write until now! I apologize for not being able to update when I said I would. I am still very sick, so please be kind! I will update when better. I hope you enjoy!

**Stiles POV**

 

**_CRACK_ **

 

_Run_

 

_Run_

 

_You need to keep running, don’t look back._

_Don’t think about the rain, or how you’re soaked to the bone. Don’t think about lightening and the thunder, and how you should be inside right now._

_Don’t think about the backpack getting wet, the pills are safe. Just keep running._

_Ignore the flash of lightning, and the rumbling tell of thunder._

 

**_CRACK_ **

 

_Don’t stop! You’re almost at the school, just a few more blocks. Keep going, don’t stop running. Come on Stiles, you can do it!_

_Watch out for the tree roots, don’t trip! Keep running, just keep running._

_Ignore the wobble in your legs, the ache of your feet and your lungs. Keep going, come on. Ignore how it hurts, ignore the pain. You need to get back, back to safety._

**_CRACK_ **

 

_Almost there, you’re almost there, come on, you’re almost at campus. Don’t slow down now! Almost there, almost there, almost there!_

_Okay, okay, okay._

_Bookstore or gym? Bookstore or gym?_

_Think, think, think—Gym!_

_You have clothes hidden there, and can warm up in the shower._

 

 **_CRACK_ **

 

_Hurry, come on, it’s not too far. Okay, now up the stairs, climb the side so you can slip through the third floor window._

_There we go, there we go, one more story. Okay, okay, now easy, you’re on the window sill, almost—don’t slip! No, no, no, no, no, come on, don’t sli—_

 

**Jackson POV**

 

“Are you sure he said the community college?” I turn to Peter, uselessly wiping the rain out of my eyes.

 

“Yes!” He yells, though I know its not directed at me, so I try not to bristle. I wince as another wave of thunder hits. “I just don’t know which one,” He says softer. I nod.

“Okay, let’s get to the car, it’ll be faster!” Once strapped in, we head back to the main road. “Where did you pick him up?” I question, pushing the hair out of my eyes. Peter raises an eyebrow at me.

 

“At the post office on Larson and—” His eyes widens, before he takes a sharp left.

 

“Peter!” I scold, rubbing my head from where it hit the window.

 

“Campus Drive!” He shouts, hand ruffling my hair, laughing. “You’re a genius, Jackson,” I grumble under my breath, trying not to show my blushing face. “It’s right across the street from one of the community colleges,” I nod.

 

“That’s the one I’m going to in a few weeks, Larson Greene Community College,” I look out the defrosted windows to see if I could spot the Stilinski boy. “So,” I murmur, “Why were you bringing him over anyway?” I ask, noticing right away that Peter’s scent takes a slight mossy-decaying edge to it, like one of the cabins in the preserve that had been abandoned. It reminds me of dead leaves and decaying wood. Decaying wood, being crushed by a small green plant, that if taken care of, the house wouldn’t have been in such bad shape. The house survives, but needs care, sadly, no one cares for it. Not even the homeless go that far into the preserve, so the house is slowly covered and crushed by this tiny green plant. The winds and rain that the cabin is supposed to protect you from are now stronger than the wood that the cabin is made from. It’s sadness, it’s abandonment. Somethings we both are familiar with, but it had been fading. I frown, scenting once more. More than the mossy-decay, Peter has a overwhelming scent of of sympathy. It-It smells like lilies, but like I’m trapped in a hospital room and I want to leave, but I can’t. It’s like the nurses and doctors ignore the protests, and they just keep bringing in more floral arrangements, all lilies. “Peter,” I say harshly, snapping him out of his emotional turmoil. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?” I ask, more softly.he looks at me, sighing.

 

“I may have invited Stiles to stay with us,” He says slowly. I raise my eyebrow.

 

“For dinner?” I ask, confused.

 

“...Indefinitely?” And that feels like a wet slap to the face, stinging and throbbing included.

 

“What?!” I yell, not caring. “You didn’t even talk to me about this!”

 

“Jackson,” 

 

“You know our history!” 

 

”And you know ours!” He exclaims. “Or did you forget me burning to death?” 

 

“Then why would you eve—”

 

“He’s all alone Jackson!” Peter yells back, making a sharp right as thunder cracks the sky. “You know what that’s like,” He says in a kinder tone, eyes soft.

 

“What happen to his dad, you know, the Sheriff? And McCall?” I narrow my eyes at the Werewolf beside me. The mossy-decaying scent comes back, but followed by a sour scent of rotting milk, it’s so strong I want to gag. “Peter,” I say firmly, “Just tell me”

 

“You’ve lived in Beacon Hills up until you left for London,” Peter says, hands gripping the wheel tightly, “Do you remember Stiles’ family before his mother died?” I frown.

 

“Yeah,” I say slowly, and kinda guiltily. “I used to make fun of him for wearing such old clothing, all from hand-me-downs. He didn’t care, just smiled and said they were from his big brothers. When they left,” I rub my hand over my face, ashamed, “I’d tell him that they all left because of him,” I admit. Peter sighs, shaking his head. “I know! I was immature and mean, okay?” I try to stop myself from getting defensive, but it was still hard. “After one of them went missing I stopped talking about them,” I say, as if that makes it any better.

 

“Well, they came back, all of them,” Peter says frowning, “And they gave the Sheriff an ultimatum. Them, or Stiles.” He tells me, and I can feel myself pale. No, no, the Sheriff is a good man. He wouldn’t, “He chose them,” I feel any fight I had against Stiles staying with us drain. His own father kicked him out in favor of his other sons. My adoptive parents haven’t even done that to me. I swallow, and shake my head.

 

“McCall?” I ask, more out of curiosity than defensiveness. “They’re like conjoined twins,” Peter bites his lip as he pulls to a stop at a red light.

 

“Remember how I told you someone was possessed by the Nogitsune, and all of the chaos and death that happened?” I nod slowly, eyes widening.

 

“Was that McCall?” I ask, frantic. “Wolves can get possessed?!”

 

“No,” Peter shakes his head. “It was Stiles.” I blink, trying to absorb all the information.

 

“But he’s better now,” I state, though slightly unsure. Peter nods. “So why isn’t he with McCall?”

 

“Well,” Peter says, driving once more, “I guess the ‘True Alpha’ didn’t like being stabbed by a demon that looked liked his best friend, or having Ms. Argent almost die in his arms because if said demon.”

 

“They blame him?” I ask quietly.

 

“According to Mr. Stilinski, yes,” Peter nods. “They said he was weak and too much of a danger because of it,”

 

“So what’d they do?” I ask, my voice sounding small even to me. Peter looks over at me, noticing my reaction, and squeezes my shoulder with his free hand.

 

“They kicked him out,” He says softly. The whimper that escapes me is involuntary. “He said he had been staying in the high school gym after his...after the Sheriff kicked him out, and he felt like he was suddenly dying from the pain he was in. The next morning he went to the loft for the pack meeting, and Scott told him he couldn’t be involved anymore.” I can’t imagine having the pack bond ripped away from me, I only have one, the one I share with Peter, but still. I tug at it and feel Peter tug back, and it comforts me a little. “The others didn’t seem to be in pain,” Peter tells me, pulling into the parking lot as another crack of thunder rolls around.

 

“What?” I ask, confused. “I thought that it would hurt both the parties of the bond, isn’t that what you told me?” I ask. Peter nods.

 

“That means Stiles was victim to a one-side pack bond, meaning he had the bond but they didn’t.”

 

“Okay,” I nod, still confused.

 

“That means he was never really pack,” Peter whispers, before unbuckling and getting out of the car. I quickly follow, more automatic than consciously. “We can’t track him by scent, the rain is too heavy. He said he mainly stays at the bookstore and the gym,” Peter shouts over the pouring rain. “He said he stays at the gym and the bookstore,” I look around to see around us.

 

“Gym is this way!” I run to the left, remembering where I would play basketball with some college students while Lydia would crash some physics class, pretending she was just observing “college” student fashion. I remember it being across from the psychology department, which is close. Peter follows silently, as I remember the shortcut, jumping the bushes. As we come up to the building I notice something on the ground, and my stomach drops. I listen for a heartbeat and sigh in relief when I hear one, it’s irregular, but Stiles’ heartbeat was never normal. Hearing Peter moving from beside me, and walking up to the figure, slowly, I follow. I look down, eyes following the diluted red flowing from the figure. I close my eyes for split second before walking up to who I assume is Stiles.

 

I’m right.

 

His backpack is still on him, and his face and head seem to be okay, but it looks like he landed on his left arm. Gingerly, I roll him onto his back, and yup, I wince as I see the bone snapped out of his skin. That’s where the blood is coming from, why the boy looks more pale than usual, that probably the cold rain too.

 

“Let me,” Peter whispers, lifting him up. “He needs to get to a hospital, fast,” He says, moving quickly.

 

“How?” I ask, trying to keep up. “I’ll sit with him in the back,” I murmur as we reach the car, Peter nods. “What will we say? Where can we go? Cause I’m pretty sure his father is still listed as his emergency contact at the hospital,” I say, holding onto Stiles, hoping to warm up the boy. I can’t help but notice the lose clothing around him. He seems leaner, definitely more muscular than the Stiles I knew, but he is also very light for his height.

 

“I have Melissa’s number,” Peter murmurs, patting around his pants, before throwing me his phone. “Call her,” He looks at me in the mirror. I nod, searching for the one McCall I could tolerate. As the phone dials it connects to the Bluetooth, filling me with relief.

 

“Peter?” Melissa answers, confused and slightly annoyed. “Didn’t I tell you never to ca—”

 

“Melissa!” Peter cuts off, and I can’t help but snicker at him. He glares at me through the mirror, but I shrug. I’m an asshole, I know that, but I got it from somewhere. “I need your help,” Melissa sighs,

 

“Professional or supernatural?”

 

“Professional,” We say in union.

 

“Okay, meet me at the hospital, I can sneak y—”

 

“We can’t!” I say quickly, and wince. There’s a silence on the line.

 

“You said it wasn’t supernatural,” Melissa murmurs. “What are you doing that you need my help? Who was in the background? What’s going on—”

 

“We found Stiles,” Peter cuts off. “He’s in bad shape, but can’t go to the hospital because his father will find out and it’ll be a big mess,”

 

“Go to Deaton’s, he has medical supplies, though mainly for animals,” She orders, and Peter does a sharp turn. “How bad is it?” She asks in a small voice.

 

“Broken arm, bone out of the skin, lots of blood loss, cold, too cold, unconscious, his heart is beating though”

 

“What happened?” She asks, shuffling on the other side.

 

“We don’t know,” I tell her,

 

“We found him laying on the ground, but it looks like he fell off the building,” Peter tells her.

 

“Or jumped,” I say absently, frowning at how cold he was. There’s a gasp from over the phone, and I immediately regret my words.

 

“N-No,” She says disbelieving, “Stiles wouldn’t, he-he wouldn’t, not to—” This time Melissa cuts herself off.

 

“He was on his back and arm, mainly. So I think he fell,” Peter tries to reassure her, pulling into the veterinarian office.

 

“Or he finally let go,” Melissa mutters wetly.

 

“I’ll be right back, I need to let Deaton know,” Peter says, getting out quickly.

 

“H-Hello?” Melissa asks, after a while, and I wince.

 

“Hi Ms. McCall,” I say, sounding like another kid.

 

“D-Do we know each other?” She asks.

 

“Uh, sorta? I-I’m Jackson, Jackson Whittemore,” I tell her, cringing at the pause.

 

“How did Stiles fall, Jackson?” She asks, and the sound of a door closing and engine starting on the other side of the phone grab my attention.

 

“Well, I was at home waiting for Peter to come back—”

 

“You’re back? With your parents?”

 

“Uh, well, it’s complicated, but I’m living with Peter now. B-But anyway, I heard them pull up and went to go check what took him so long, I wasn’t expecting Stiles. When I opened the door I almost gave both of us a heart attack. We both started panicking, Stiles ran outside and I ran to my bedroom. I had a little spat with Peter over unannounced visitors, and he apologized but said we had to go find Stiles because of the storm. H-He caught me up on what happened while we were looking for Stiles, and when we found him, h-he...then we called you,”

 

“You think meeting you brought on a panic attack?” She asks softly,

 

“Well, seeing him brought one on for me,” I respond, glaring out the window.

 

“And why was that, Jackson?” She asks softly, motherly. And I know I can never deny a mother’s request, not one like Melissa.

 

“W-When I was a Kanima, I-I didn’t remember anything. When Scott and Stiles took me, I-I heard Stiles say they should just kill me, no one took him seriously, but...still.” I blink, confused. I never even told my therapist that. Sometimes I remember that conversation and think they should have just killed me, a lot less people would have died. I wish, sometimes, that they would have listened to Stiles.

 

“That wasn’t your fault, Jackson,” Melissa says softly, comfortingly. “And they know that now. Scott and Stiles fought to keep the others from killing you, so even though Stiles said that he didn’t mean it.” She sighs, “children tend to do or say ridiculous things or obnoxious things to get attention, Stiles, well, he hadn’t grown out of it then, I don’t know if he ever will.”

 

“Yeah,” I mumble, “But, that was one time where I wasn’t in power, where they held power over me. Yeah it was stupid, and yeah it was good intentioned, but that was enough to give me a panic attack.” I explain, hoping to find the right words. “D-Does that make sense? L-Like, if that only happened to me once, and it left such a deep impression, imagine how much of an impression I left on Stiles. If he felt anything like what I did, and have, I could understand why he would jump,”

 

“Hey!” Ms. McCall’s voice is sharp and snaps me out of my mood. “None of that! You hear me?”

 

“Yes ma’am,” I nod, though she can’t see it. “I’m worried, I don’t know what’s taking so long, and Peter isn’t back yet. I-I trying to stop the bleeding, but it’s been a while, and Stiles is so cold and so skinny and—”

 

“Jackson!” Melissa shouts, only, it’s not through the phone. She’s next to me, car door open. I sigh in relief. She takes a look at Stiles in my lap and pales. “He needs help, now!”

 

“Peter isn’t back,” I whimper, a bit too canine when emotional.

 

“Peter!” Melissa yells, and a second later Peter is standing right there, scowling.

 

“Deaton won’t let us in,” Peter informs us. “Stiles isn’t pack, or supernatural, so he told me to take him to the hospital. I’ve been tryin—” Melissa does a great impression of a growl, one that puts mine to shame.

 

“Scott should be here, what did he say?” Melissa questions.

 

“He wasn’t there, doesn’t smell like he’s been here at all today,” Peter answers.

 

“Okay,” Melissa nods. “In the car, drive us, fuck it,” She says marching to the passenger side of the car. “Well?!” She snaps when we don’t move for a second. Peter slams my door shut, jumping into the driver’s seat.

 

“Where are we going?” I ask as Peter drives out the parking lot,

 

“Hospital,” She says firmly.

 

“But—”

 

“He needs an x-ray and a doctor,” She says flatly. “I-I can call in a favor from a friend, maybe to keep hush-hush for a while, as I am already one of his emergency contacts.” She looks back at us, “He’s already lost so much blood. He needs surgery for that arm, and we still need to check for any other damage he got from being out there in the rain,”

 

“The Sheriff—”

 

“Will be left to me,” Melissa warns. I shiver from the icyness of her tone, leaving no room for argument, as she pulls out her cellphone.

 

“Hello? Melissa?” A raspy voice, male, picks up.

 

“David, I need you to wash up, and be ready for me in ER.”

 

“What’s happened?” He ask, the sound of running water in the background.

 

“The emergency I told you about, it was for a boy I know, seventeen, looks malnourished, is said to have possibly fallen from a building, left arm broken, ulna broken through the skin, he’s lost a lot of blood, and unconscious.” She swallows, “It’s bad David,”

 

“How long till arrival?”

 

“Pull up at the emergency entrance,” She murmurs to Peter. “Now, pulling in now,”

 

“Okay, we’ll have a stretcher ready,” He says, clicking off. As soon as we pull up, Melissa jumps out and waves a few nurses over. They rush towards us, taking Stiles and leaving my lap wet and empty. I can hear what the nurses are saying but I don’t understand their jargon. I don’t know what’s going on. Peter and I rush in after them, only to be stopped by nurses talking about paperwork,

 

“I got this Janice,” Melissa says as she seems to come out of nowhere, so we follow her to the waiting area. “I trust that doctor to do the best for Stiles,” She murmurs. “He’s the best at what he does, I’ve worked with him for a few year now, trust me.”

 

“Still doesn’t make me comfortable in the hospital,” Peter says, sitting beside me in one of the many uncomfortable chair, clearing his throat.

 

“No, it wouldn’t,” she replies softly, the sound of her scribbling filling the room. “The only thing we can do now is wait,”

 

* * *

 

 

It’s been four days since Stiles was admitted to the hospital, he’s been in and out of sleep, but not coherent enough to know what’s been going on. He was admitted with a broken arm that required surgery, malnutrition, a concussion, hypothermia, and an ear infection that if not monitored, could lead to him going deaf in one ear. I guess he had been in the rain too long, and the water and cold wind really did damage. The staff at the hospital are trying to make sure he doesn’t catch pneumonia, because right now it might be too much for his body to handle.

 

The Sheriff was made aware of Stiles’ condition, but hasn’t been over to see him yet. He’s coming today though, and I know that only because I was there when Melissa was screaming at him over the phone in the parking lot. I’m sitting by his bed for the fourth day in a row, me, his childhood bully, but his father has yet to visit.

 

No one has visited him.

 

Not even Scott.

 

I stare at the sleeping figure, waiting for him to wake up, anxious. I don’t know how he’ll react, I don’t want to give him another panic attack. I count the number of tiles on the ceiling, then the floor, trying to keep myself calm. My head snaps up as I hear the heart monitor rise, and I see Stiles blink himself awake slowly. When his eyes meet mine, I panic.

 

“I’m not here to hurt you!” I nearly shout, in a poor attempt to keep him calm, Stiles looks around confused, then back at me, heart beat still rising. “Stay calm, or the nurses will come,” I tell him. I watch as he swallows, winces at the ache in his throat, and take deep breathes. “D-Do you need water?” I ask, standing up in haste to get the pitcher. The boy nods, after almost tripping over myself, and I pour him some in a paper cup, warching as he swallows, before giving him another. It’s an awkward silence as I put the pitcher back. I look up at him, only to see him looking back at me. “I’m sorry,” I say quickly, unable to take the atmosphere. Stiles raises an eyebrow, but there’s an upturn in the corner of his lips letting me know he’s at least a little amused. “I didn’t mean to send you into a panic attack,”

 

“Well, to be fair,” He says, voice raspy and full of amusement, “I think I did the same to you,”

 

“I didn’t expect you to be at the door,” I grumble, but there is no heat.

 

“Yeah, and I didn’t expect you to be there either.” He smiles weakly,

 

“I blame Peter,” I nod. “He could have let us know,”

 

“I agree, he knows our history, he should have known better. Let’s just blame Peter,” Stiles says, and we both chuckle at that. “So, Peter’s your biological father,” Stiles says after a while.

 

“He told you?” I ask, surprised. Stiles nods, hesitantly. “Uh, yeah, he-he came to London and told me. After, well, lots of yelling and denial, I started to get to know him.”

 

“That’s good?” He asks, unsure.

 

“Yeah,” I smile a bit, “It is,”

 

“Congratulations,” Stiles says, nodding. “I’m glad you found someone to care about and to care for you,”

 

“Thanks,” I murmur, as the awkward silence comes back.

 

“So,” Stiles breaks the silence once more, “W-What happened?” He asks.

 

“Well, after we had a little spat, we we made up and went to find you, the storm was pretty bad,” I say tilting my head towards the window, where it is still raining. “Peter,” I say hesitantly, “He filled me in on everything on the way to finding you,” The heart monitor picks up, but Stiles stays uncharacteristically quiet. “We found you outside the college gym, bleeding, with your arm broken.” I nod to his cast. “We got you, loaded you in the car, and called Melissa. She told us to bring you to Deaton’s, since we figured you didn’t want to come here,” Stiles grumbles in agreement, “But Deaton refused to let you in, so Melissa got fed up and told to go to the hospital. She’d take care of everything,”

 

“I bet she did,” He smiles sadly. I smile back.

 

“Basically,” I agree, “You ended up getting surgery on your arm, and the docs said you have a bad ear infection from the rain that you need to be cautious about, or you can lose your hearing in that right ear. You were also malnourished, which is why your hooked up to so many bags, well that and all the blood loss from the broken arm. Oh! You also had hypothermia, which is bad, it sounds bad,” I nod. Stiles nods, looking down at his lap.

“H-Have they called...” He starts to ask but trails off.

 

“Yeah, he, uh, he’s been busy so he hasn’t been by, b-but he’s coming by today.” I tell him quickly. He just nods, not looking at me. “You know, Peter, he, uh, he told me where you’ve been staying,” I clear my throat. “You can stay with us,” I say quietly. “I won’t, I-I’m not the same person I was before, so I won’t bother you, you know?”

 

“Yes you are,” Stiles says softly, but I feel like I’ve been sucker punched. “You are still you Jackson,” He tells me, looking me up and down, “But not the douche jock head who was so insecure that he bullied anyone who looked at him funny,” Stiles shakes his head as he looks at me. “You’re like a Jackson I never met before, the one that Danny was proud to be friends with and Lydia loved.” I swallow hard and look down at the mention of those two, the only people I’d let close, “I never met this Jackson before, but you seem like someone I’d like to get to know better,” He smiles, and I nod back, smiling a bit. “B-But I don’t think I can live with you guys,” He shakes his head.

 

“Why not?” I ask, confused.

 

“If you want to get in good graces with the pack, well, I can’t be around,” Stiles shrugs.

 

“I doubt they’d take me, if they couldn’t accept you,” I say bluntly, then cringe at my words. “I just mean,” I try to amend, “They at least liked you,”

 

“Not when you’ve tried to kill them,” He says flatly.

 

“Been there, done that,” I scoff, before freezing up. We both look at each other, wide-eyed, before laughing.

 

“Yeah, I guess you have.” Stiles smiles, “Uh, have you seen anyone else, yet?” He asks trying to find small talk.

 

“I was thinking about seeing Malia, seeing as she is supposedly my twin,” Stiles cringes a bit. “What?” I frown.

 

“I,” Stiles shifts his eyes around the room, “I, uh, may know Malia,” He says looking at me, like I should know what he means, so I just raise an eyebrow, waiting. “Biblically,” He says, and my nose scrunches up. “Yeah, helped me discover I may actually prefer men,” He scoffs, before eyes widening, like he hadn’t meant to say that.

 

“Same,” I nod, looking out the window.

 

“What?” Stiles asks, shocked, and I turn to look at him, surprised as well. I hadn’t meant to say that.

 

“Uh,”

 

“HE DOESN’T EVEN LIVE WITH ME!” A voice comes from down the hall, cutting us off. I see Stiles flinch, as his heart monitor gets louder. I listen for the other voices.

 

“He is your child!” Melissa says, voice angry, “Even if you are morally fine with throwing your youngest son out on the streets, you are legally obligated to take care of him! You are supposed to be his guardian!”

 

“Would you like to know what they’re talking about?” I ask, and hesitantly Stiles nods, so I relay the information.

 

“He understood what was going on,” The Sheriff, “He left and never came back, didn’t even take the money his brothers kindly offered!”

 

“You know that’s illegal, Sheriff!” Peter yells.

 

“You wanna talk about legal?!” The Sheriff yells back.

 

“Enough!” Melissa snaps at the two of them. “Stiles needs someone to care for him,” She says. “It’s very possible that he fell off that building, but also possible that he willingly let go,”

 

“I fell!” Stiles says shocked, “I wasn’t _trying_ to kill myself,” I don’t comment on the irregular rhythm of his heart beat, its always irregular.

 

“And why would he do that?” The Sheriff scoffs, “He’s surrounded by people who care about him,”

 

“Like who? His deceased mother who tried killing him in the woods? His older brothers that abandoned him and blamed him for his mother’s death? Or his father, who, at the opportunity, kicked him out at the first chance he got?” Peter spits.

 

“He has the pack!”

 

“They kicked him out, too,” Melissa says quietly. Everyone grows quiet, as the Sheriff absorbs this information.

 

“Look,” Peter sighs, “Just-Just grant me guardianship, he turns eighteen soon enough anyway. He can stay with Jackson and me, we have enough room, and I have the means to provide for him.”

 

“You expect me to trust you?” The Sheriff scoffs.

 

“Someone needs to be there for the boy, and since you refuse to fucking do it, you could at least let someone who is willing to do it, try!” Peter yells. There’s a long silence before the Sheriff agrees, saying he can call in a favor to have it rushed.

 

I look back at Stiles, tears in his eyes, as he clears his throat.

 

“Well,” He says, “I guess we’ll be roommates whether we want to or not,” I smile sadly. “I call top bunk,”


	5. Did You Just “Supernatural” Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life with Peter and Jackson!  
> Stiles and Jackson talk about feelings~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, still sick, but wanted to post a short(er) chapter. It’s back to Stiles POV. 
> 
> This one contains low self-esteem, subtle mentions of sucidal tendencies, and manipulation. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy, and thank you for all the comments and readings. I enjoy reading them, and they really motivate me. I’ll reply to everyone soon! Thank you!
> 
> P.S. If you didn’t know, none of my chapters are edited, will go back and do it when the story is finished.

“You can’t just do that, Stiles!” Peter yells after me as I make my way to the room I have been given, fuming. “Stiles!” He calls out, but I just quickly line the doorway with Mountain Ash before shutting it. I can hear Peter and Jackson murmuring angrily, as I slide down the door, pulling my knees to my chest, hands over my ears. I work on controlling my breathing, hoping that would be enough to control the watering of my eyes.

It’s always like this. I’ve been living with the father-son duo for over two months now, and it’s always like this.

I know they must think I’m ungrateful, that I’m overly difficult to live with. I try not to get in their way, keeping mostly to myself. I hardly talk back, I don’t ask for money, or anything else really, I cook, clean (for the most part), but it still ends up with me getting yelled at. I know, I know he isn’t really angry at me, just upset with what I’m doing, but it’s more than I can handle. Every time he yells at me, even if it’s just raising his voice at me, I feel like I need to runaway. I just rush back to the room they gave me and line it with Mountain Ash, so they can’t come in and physically throw me out. Every time I get yelled at I feel like my place here is no longer secure, like they’re just gonna kick me out, do what everyone else did. I cause too much trouble, more than they were prepared to handle.

I-I know Peter says he’s only concerned about me, that I shouldn’t be fighting the supernatural by myself. But if it’s not me then who? Scott? Derek? The Pack?

I tried to leave some of it to them after...a-and they just ignored the problem. A two-year-old was kidnapped by faeries and replaced with a changeling, but they didn’t act on it, so I had to, before it was too late. I was almost too late. The child was a cute baby boy, with blonde curls and big blue eyes. The parents said that everyone would tell them how lucky they were to have such a sweet calm baby, but some one must have really envied them, because it drew the faeries to them.

When I found the boy, the faeries had attacked me, saying that the exchange was complete. I had to exchange the changeling for the boy, which was hard to do, because the faeries would only meet at the peek of the moon, and exchange them through sacred nature. This meant I needed to hike a trail at night, carrying the changeling to a hidden water fall, exchange the creature for the boy, hike all the way back, return the boy home (without being caught by neighbors, the parents, or the police), and make it back to my shift at the bookstore in the morning. Of course, this was after finding the faeries, challenging them, winning, and forcing them to admit to kidnapping the child and agreeing to an exchange.

I had to train myself to take on the supernatural, because no one else would. The pack was given an opportunity and failed, and the police couldn’t handle these situations, so I handled them. Since I had been kicked out, I have been handling all the supernatural creatures, doing my best to negotiate, but having to train myself (though I can admit I’m not exactly the best fighter at hand-to-hand combat). I don’t...I don’t really know how I win. I mean, it’s not like a brawl, and everything is over. Sometimes the cases take weeks, especially when I don’t know how to fight whatever it is that I am dealing with, but somehow I haven’t died yet. Every time I’m losing, like, sword-through-my-abdomen-bleeding-out-losing, and I’m feel like it’s the end, there is this weird tingling that spreads through me. It feels like I’m on fire, like I’m drowning, being buried alive, like I’m in space without a helmet, and suddenly my opponent has done nothing in comparison to the pain I feel. It hurts so much, like my soul is closing in on itself. But, when the pain passes I can feel myself healing itself, pushing out poison, pushing out all daggers, talons, claws, and foreign bodies, before repairing itself.

Most creatures stop after that, but sometimes, the creature I’m fighting against try attacking me while this happens. It doesn’t go well for them. I don’t mean to, I don’t even really know what happens, but when they try to attack I start burning. And they get caught. This bright white light shoots out of my fingernails, my mouth, the tips of my toes, drips from my eyes, and straight out of my chest. Sometimes it feels like I’m floating off the ground. This light is burning, and it’ll aim at whoever is attacking me. I can’t control it. I-I don’t know what really happens. The person-creature-thing will scream, wail, in agony, crumpling to the floor, begging for mercy. The light will just grow brighter, until the creature disappears. I-I don’t know if they are dead or not. I don’t know where they are. At first I thought they burnt up, but there wasn’t any smell of burning flesh, no visible signs of smoke or anything. They were just gone.

This is what I do, what I need to do. I need to help, that way no one else has to get hurt. I will die doing this.

But Peter doesn’t understand, he thinks I shouldn’t involve myself with the supernatural. Jackson doesn’t understand either, the both of them upset when they track me and find me fighting or negotiating or tracking other supernatural creatures.

It’s always the same thing. “You can’t do this, Stiles!” “It’s too dangerous for you,” “This is insane, Stiles!” Peter gets so upset, and then Jackson is upset, and both of them are upset with me. I’m trying to do good, but even then, it’s like I’m just causing trouble.

I know Peter paid my hospital bills, I know he and Jackson had to cancel the apartment contract and they bought a house instead. I know they’ve tried being accommodating. I know they are trying to help me, but I just wish they’d stop. They didn’t need to buy a house when I’m only going to be living in it for a few months. They don’t need to worry if I get hurt, no one should have to worry anymore. I don’t matter enough for them to have to care...I don’t deserve to have anyone care.

But Peter was really upset this time.

**_KNOCK_ **

Maybe they’re finally going to kick me out.

**_KNOCK_ **

It was only a matter of time.

**_KNOCK_ **

Looking around I sigh.

**_KNOCK_ **

I haven’t bought any new clothes, or anything really, just more adderall. All my clothes fit in one drawer, but I haven’t used the dresser that Peter bought.

**_KNOCK_ **

My clothes are packed in a duffel bag, along with my toiletries. I have my backpack next to it, with my laptop, pills, and books all stuffed in it.

**_KNOCK_ **

This is it, they’re going to say that they’re sorry, but it’s for the best. I’m too much.

  
**_KNOCK_ **

Sighing, I know that I have to face them sooner or later. It’ll probably be best to do it now, I’m all packed up anyway. Standing, I grab the golden doorknob, collecting myself before quickly opening the door.

**_THUMP_ **

I rub my eye, in shock and pain, before looking up to see Jackson’s shocked face.

“I Didn’t know you were going to open the door!” He says quickly, tone slightly defensive.

“So you throw a ball at me?” I ask, confused, staring at the green tennis ball on the floor near the bed.

“Shit,” He says, rushing forward a few steps. “No, I was trying to knock on your door, but you lined it with Mountain Ash, so I can’t even touch your door. I was using the ball to get your attention,” He explains, glaring at the floor. Even though my eye is still throbbing, I can’t help but smile at how cute Jackson can be sometimes. He’s like a kid most of the time, a rich kid, but still a kid. I shake my head, no, he’s about to kick me out, I can’t smile at that.

“Okay,” I nod, breaking the line of ash. He sighs in relief, before stepping into the room. Compared to the other rooms, this one is quite bare. I hadn’t wanted to decorate for this very reason. Why paint the walls or put up posters when they’ll just have to take it down and repaint it? “Go on,” I tell Jackson, preparing myself for the boot.

“You know you were wrong right?” Jackson asks, and I stay quiet, silently disagreeing. “That tonight you could have gotten hurt,” At this I tilt my head in agreement, because that is always a possibility. “And if you had, that would have been worse for Peter,” At this I frown, looking away. I know that Peter is in charge of me, so I try not to get killed or hurt too much, because I know it’ll be bad for Peter and Jackson, but I’m sure if I died my...The Sheriff would cover it up and no one would even care that much.

“Jackson,” I sigh, exhausted. “Just say it already,” I tell him tiredly. “Just say I can’t stay here anymore, that it’s too much trouble. I already know,” I gesture to my packed bags. “Don’t drag this out, please,”

“What?” Jackson asks, wide-eyed and confused. “Why are you even packed?” He asks, frown lines marking his otherwise perfect features. “If you run away, we’ll just track you and drag you back,” He threatens, eyes turning a reptilian yellow. At this, I frown.

“Aren’t you kicking me out?” I ask, confused.

“What?” Jackson’s forehead crinkles in confusion, eyes turning back to normal. “Why would think that?”

“Peter seemed really upset with me, and so did you,” I tell him, voice small, “I thought you’d be happier if I wasn’t here,” Jackson’s eyes soften as he looks at me, before surveying the room.

“You never unpacked, did you?” He asks, and I shake my head in response. “Listen Stiles,” Jackson tells me, “We are upset, but we aren’t kicking you out,”

“Why?” I ask, tears welling up without my permission. “You guys don’t want me, no one wants me! So why are you being so nice? Why are you letting me stay?” I ask, upset. The room falls quiet for a moment, only sound is my sniffles.

“Do you really think that?” Jackson asks, staring at me intensely. “Is that why you rush off into dangerous situations?”

“No, I do that so people don’t get hurt,” I glare at him.

“But you get hurt!”

“I don’t count!”

“And why not?”

“Because!” I exclaim, struggling for the right words, “Because i-it doesn’t matter!”

“You could die,” Jackson says, throwing his hands in the air.

“So?” I scoff, “That’s what everyone would prefer,” I grumble, unshed tears burning my eyes.

“Is that what you think?” Jackson asks, “No one would care if you died? That you might as well do something idiotic that might get you killed, because no one cares anyway?”

“I’m not trying to get killed,” I say slowly. “I am trying to protect the town,”

“Leave it to them, to the pack,”

“No! They don’t even do anything about the situations,” I shake my head vehemently, “And even if they did, they could get hurt,”

“But it’s okay if you get hurt?”

“Yes!” I yell, “Because I deserve it!” The silence that follows my statement is deafening.

“Why?” Jackson asks softly. “Because you were possessed by the Nogitsune?” He takes a step closer to me, “Following that logic, then I deserve it too. Do I deserve to be hurt, Stiles? Do I deserve to die?”

“That’s different,” I sniff wiping my eyes. “You were being controlled,”

“So were you,” He says softly.

“But I let him in,” I cry. “H-He took over a boy in Eichen House, my roommate, and he threatened to kill Malia, so I-I-I,”

“If you think telling me that you got possessed by the Nogitsune, because you were trying to protect my twin sister, is going to make me think you’re a bad person, well, have I got some news for you,” Jackson tells me, making me snort. “He manipulated you Stiles, forcing you to make choices that you wanted no part of, that was not your fault,”

“But Mitch said—”

“Who the fuck is Mitch?”

“My brother,” I whisper.

“He wasn’t even here, the fuck does he know?” Jackson scowls. “Seriously, he left you guys as soon as your mom passed, and after years of being away, he comes back to terrorize you, kick you out of your home, and you want to listen to him? Fuck him!” Jackson looks at me, “The only people you need to listen to are the ones you care about, and yourself. And since I’m pretty sure you care about Peter and me, I mean who wouldn’t,” I scoff, rolling my eyes, “Listen to your pack,”

“Pack?” I ask, wide eyed, “You can’t want me as Pack! I’m no good! I—”

“Well we do, in fact, we’ve already been thinking of you as Pack,”

“Really?” I ask softly, unable to comprehend anyone wanting me. “But-But what if you get tired of me?” I ask. “I don’t think I can go through losing another...” I shake my head.

“Of course we’ll get tired of each other,” Jackson rolls his eyes. “Even family gets annoyed and tired of one another, but we’ll have each other to depend on,” He tells me, before narrowing his eyes. “And that includes monster hunting, or whatever it is that you do,” I bite my lip, thinking about everything. “Just,” Jackson sighs, “You aren’t alone in this Stiles, we’re here for you. Don’t-Don’t shut us out,”

“O-Okay,” I sniffle.

“Okay? Okay,” He smiles, “Then, since that’s settled, let’s go get you some stuff for your room, like I don’t know, a blanket? Comforter? Sheets?” I scoff, “And some new clothes while we’re at it,”

“What’s wrong with my clothes?”

“Besides the fact that you look like a walking advertisement for the college? Or that you only have, like, five pairs of underwear? Oh, nothing.” Jackson scoffs. I grumble, in reluctant agreement.

“Okay, let’s go.” I say, following Jackson out the door.

“Man, do I have my work cut out for me,” He says, smirking at me as I elbow him.

“Jerk!” I mumble.

“Bitch,” He smirks, when I gasp.

“Did you just “Supernatural” me?” I ask. “Are you a closet nerd? Jackson? Jackson?! JACKSON!”


	6. Rasinets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Stiles and Jackson POV  
> 2\. Peter leaves for a while, and comes back, with big news  
> 3\. Stiles and Jackson feels  
> 4\. Super long chapter  
> 5\. Seizure scene!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, so here is an extra long chapter for you, I’ll be replying to comments in the morning. Thanks for commenting and reacting to my story, I feel special. Thank you for your concern over my health, I appreciate it.

“Oh my god,” I whimper, “Oh my god, oh my god!” Curling in on myself.

 

“It’s okay, Stiles,” Jackson’s gasps out, blood dripping down the side of his mouth. “N-Not your fault,”

 

“Please,” I beg, who or what, I don’t know. “Please!”

 

“Stiles,” A familiar voice calls out, sounding exasperated, “There’s nothing we can do, might as well let him go in pea—”

 

“I WILL KILL YOU!” I scream, taking a second to turn away from Jackson and look at Scott. “Finish that sentence and I will kill you!” I scream, before turning back to Jax. “Please,” I whimper, but I can see him going still, body going lax. “Don’t leave me,”

 

* * *

 

_“So you’re leaving us?” Jackson asks, voice sounding like he could care less, but we know he’s hurt. “Fine, it’s fine. Just text us when you land and stuff.”_

_“Jackson,” Peter says firm, but soft. “I need to go go away for a bit, but I’ll be back as soon as possible,” He explains for the nth time. “I promise,”_

_“Yeah,” Jackson nods, not looking at anyone, instead finding the window outside more interesting._

_“B-But,” I cut in as Peter sighs. “What if something happens?” I ask softly._

_“Stiles,” Peter says softly. “If something happens when you’re...tracking, it’s not your fault.”_

_“You already know that,” Jackson’s says, giving me a sharp look. “Ri told you, it’s not your fault. That your spark is just protecting you so no one uses your body against your will,”_

_“I know,” I mutter, knowing what the supernatural therapist said. “B-But what if someone else gets hurt because of it! And you won’t be around and I can’t stop it and I can’t—”_

_“Stiles,” Peter cuts off my impending panic attack. “If someone gets hurt, that’s because they were trying to attack you! Self-defense,” He places a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it._

_“But last time!” I croak, “J-Jackson almost, I almost—”_

_“I didn’t know any better,” Jackson says quietly. “Now we work together on these cases, train together, I’ll be sure not to jump in front like that again,”_

_“No one makes it once the light gets them,” I whimper. “I-I don’t even know what happens to them. No one does,” I shake my head. “You can’t leave me like this,”_

_“Would you like to go back to Eichen House?” Peter asks, eye brow raised. I whimper at the mention of the asylum. “Look, Stiles,” Peter says softly, grip hold me in place. “I know right now you feel vulnerable, fragile, both of you do,” He glances up at Jackson who pointedly looks away. “Especially this time of year,” I know he is referring to it nearly being a year since the Sheriff had kicked me out, “Even more so, after you started therapy. And I’m proud of your progress and that you’ve started depending on us, really, I am. But you don’t need me here, not all the time. You have each other now, you have Pack. Both of you have grown, you aren’t the ‘nemeses’ you were in high school. You’ll protect one another.”_

_“I just,” I shake my head, telling no myself to “man up”. “Never mind,” I shake my head. “I just don’t want to hurt anyone,” I say._

_“And I know you won’t do anything on purpose if something does happen,” Peter nods, looking at Jackson and back to me. “I know that,”_

_“Okay,” I nod. “Safe flight,”_

_“Thanks Stiles,” Peter smiles, before looking up at Jackson. “I’ll be home as soon as I can, I’ll try to make it before you start school in September,”_

_“Yeah, sure,” Jackson nods. “Have a nice flight,” Sighing, Peter nods, heading to his taxi, who has been honking their horn for the past five minutes,_

_“Jackson,” I say, after waiting for the car to leave, and turn to look at him. He stares at me, waiting, and I bite my lip, worried about how this might come off. “Please,” I beg, voice thick. “Please don’t leave me,” His eyes soften, as he comes down the the stairs to reach me. Without saying a word, Jackson pulls me into a hug._

_“I’m not going anywhere,” He whispers._

* * *

 

“Mr. Stilinski,” I hear the monotone voice of the town vet call from behind me, “There is nothing you can do now,” He tells me, probably hoping to snap me out of my ‘fit’. “Mr. Whittemore—”

 

“No,” I shake my head as Jax lies on the cold hard ground. I need him, we’re dependent on each other. He means the world to me, he helped me make my world all over again, of course he matters.

 

* * *

 

_“What are you reading?” Jackson asks, coming down the hallway. Laying down on the ridiculously soft oversized couch, I don’t even look up to know that he’s naked. He’s gotten way too comfortable with his animalistic side, and I’ve gotten too used to it. “You’ve been practically glued to it all day,”_

_“A book on anti-gravity,” I tell him, flipping the page. “It’s actually pretty interesting,” I look at him, about to explain some information I learned, but Jackson cuts me off._

_“So,” He smiles at me, a twinkle in his eye that makes want to groan even though he hasn’t even done anything wrong. “You’re saying it’s difficult to put down,” He laughs as I do groan._

_“Jackson!”_

_“Is it some light reading?”_

_“Please,” I beg, shaking my head, but smile playing on my lips._

_“Do you find it uplifting?” He cackles, as I throw the book at him, knowing it won’t actually hurt him if it hits him. It doesn’t. I lay back down, closing my eyes._

_THUMP_

 

_“Jackson!” I yell, rubbing my nose where Jackson just dropped my book. “You can’t hit me with my own book! That is more than rude!”_

_“Don’t blame me,” He chortles, climbing the stairs. “Blame the gravity of the situation,”_

_“Ugh, that doesn’t even make sense!”_

* * *

 “What are you gonna do now, Human?” The Strzyga taunts, spitting out the word ‘Human,’ with such disgust, that it almost makes me feel ashamed. “You’re injured, from running around in these woods, and yet you dare try to take me on?” It scoffs.

 

“Well,” I say, holding back a groan as I stand up, holding my bleeding side where the vampire-like creature clawed me, “Maybe this was all part of my plan,”

 

“Please,” It laughs, “If you think you and a few other humans can trap me, then you are terribly mistaken. “Humans can’t see me unless I want them to,” It says, shifting in such a speed I can’t even tell where it is. The darkness doesn’t really help either.

 

“Shit,” I murmur, looking around me, squinting in hopes of finding the owl with glowing green eyes somewhere.

 

“Indeed,” A voice whispers in my ear, before claw digs into my shoulder.

 

“I guess I’m lucky I’m not just a human, then,” A raspy voice growls, and I’d know that growl anywhere. Suddenly, I’m afraid. Not for me, but for Jackson. The creature laughs, cold and cruel.

 

“What’s this?” It asks, clearly teasing. “You’re more afraid of a wolf than of me? I’m hurt,” I says, as the sound of bones breaking and shifting is right in my ear. “I guess I need to work on my delivery more,” It says around its rows of sharp and elongated teeth. “But fear always did taste sweeter.” As quick as it’s teeth are in my shoulder, is it gone. Jackson has his anima eyes on, and his tail is out.

 

“You will not touch him,” Jackson growls, “Because I’m going to kill you,”

 

“Try your best, Moon-child abomination!” The creature laughs, springing to attack Jackson. Stiles, unwilling to let the once-human-now-vampire-owl-creature harm Jackson, jumps in and takes the brunt of the creature’s attack. The talons pierces his abdomen, causing him to cry out.

 

“Jackson!” A familiar voice calls out. All three of them turn to look at the voice. There, in his typical late-and-bare-made-it-glory is Scott, red-eyed. That means his pack is close behind. Rage boils my ever shrinking amount of blood as the Strzyga tightens its hold on me.

 

“You brought them?!” I yell, despite being on the verge of bleeding out, trying to turn and glare at Jackson.

 

“What?!” Jackson shakes his head, “No, they-they must have tracked me! But that’s not important right now!” He yells unleashing his claws, glaring up at the Strzyga. “Let go of him!”

 

“I think not,”

 

“I will enjoy killing you,” Jackson spits, leaping to attack, but only gets tackled by Scott. “Get off of me McCall!”

 

“You can’t kill it!” He yells, “It was once human, too!” As Scott has his “True Alpha” life-is-in-black-and-white moment, the creature pushes me down, and I’m too weak to get up, though I still struggle.

 

“We know that,” Jackson yells, pushing him off, “But he is going to kill Stiles! And I’m not going to let that happen!” He whips his tail, and cuts Scott, venom paralyzing him, before rushing off in my direction.

 

“Jackson!” Scott yells, “Don’t kill it!” But Jackson is running towards me, jumping onto the Strzyga’s back. No, this is bad, I can feel a familiar pain starting in my body.

 

“Jackson,” I scream. “Go! Leave, NOW!” I fight, trying to hold back the inevitable explosion about to happen, but Jackson growls as the creature tightens its hold on me.

 

“I’m going to kill you!” The Strzyga yells, as Jackson cuts off one of its wings, in a single strike.“But first I’m going to make your friend suffer, and make you watch!” It releases its talons in my abdomen, only to strike down harder. And that’s it. I can’t control it anymore. Soon a white light shoots through and out my body.

 

“Jackson!” I scream, but it’s too late. I feel the agony, the absolute pain, as the blood curtailing screams from both the Strzyga and Jackson echo my own. I feel myself lift off the ground, I feel the removal of the Strzyga’s talons, the stitching of my large intestine, of my skin, it hurts.

 

“Please!” A voice begs, snapping me from the focus of my pain, of my healing. “It hurts so bad,” Jackson, it’s Jackson, and he’s sobbing. No. No, no, no, he can’t be hurting. No, no—

“No!” I gasp pulling back. I can’t let Jackson go, I can’t do this to him. “NO,” I scream, commanding my spark, whatever it is that does this, to let go of Jackson. It’s never listened before, but it was never Jackson before. I can see the Light receding from Jackson’s form, but the Strzyga is fading, if I don’t hurry, Jackson will be lost. No, no, I can’t do that! “Let him GO!”

 

I fall back to the ground, light gone, Strzyga gone, Jackson falling onto his side. I rush to his side. I pull him over carefully, as he whimpers. No, no, no.

* * *

 

_“You know,” Jax says as he drives us to the Lord Of The Rings special at the town theatre, the one where not only all the LOTR movies are showing, but the Hobbit ones as well, “We should do this for the Star Wars and Star Trek movies as well,” He tells me. I smile, thinking back how freshman, sophomore, and junior high school me would never believe that Jackson and I would be spending a whole weekend sitting next to each other watching LOTR._

_I always wanted to go, especially since they did it around my birthday, but Scott didn’t want to, and I’d worry that my ADHD would be too much for me to do it so on my own. Scott was never interested in any of my nerdy hobbies or “obsessions”, as he liked to call them. My obsessions were the only thing, besides my father, that connected me with my brothers and my mother. She used to be a major nerd, collecting comic books, knowing trivia about everything George Lucas, had dinner debates over whether Star Wars was better or Star Trek (trick question, they are both amazing), etc. My brothers, before everything with my mom, they adored me. They used to read me Tolkien every night, switching off every day. I shared a room with Stu, because my mom loved running into our room singing, “Sti Stu! Stu Sti! Wakey wakey, breakfast time!” as she tickled us awake. Harry Potter was becoming quite popular, so we had a ton of magical decorations in our room. When she got sick it was like the Magic was draining from our lives, and when she died, it was like the magic disappeared. And so did my brothers. I never talked about it with Scott, cause he was never interested and just zoned out whenever I brought it up._

_Ri, my therapist, was the first person I could talk to about it. I had offhandedly mentioned loving Tolkien, and she asked how I got into it, and well, it brought up some buried memories. She told me I should tell Jackson about my interests, see if we could bond over something besides lacrosse and the supernatural. I waited a month before hesitantly mentioning the LOTR showings at the theater. It was amazing how bright his eyes light, how genuinely excited his smile was._

* * *

“ **Do you wanna go?” I asked, finding more confidence and a little hope.**

**“Uh, duh!l” He laughed. “Do you know how many times I begged Danny to go with me? How many times I blackmailed him?”**

**“You blackmailed Danny?” I gasped in shock. Jackson face turns serious.**

**“For the good of humanity, of my humanity, yes,” I laugh in surprise. “It was a win-win. I got a Tolkien buddy and the evidence was destroyed,”**

**“Dude,” I said in awe.He just laughed.**

**“So we going?” He asked, “Because if we are, we need to prepare,”**

**“Yeah,” I nodded, before shaking my head. “I mean yes, absolutely!” I laughed. “That’s my birthday weekend, by the way, so you’re treating.”**

**“What?” He said with wide eyes, before nodding. “Okay,” Jackson pulled out his phone. “Was this something you used to do it with McCall?” He asks softly.**

**“N-No!” I told him, shaking my head. “Uh, He-he thought it was too nerdy, and...the Sheriff was always too busy.” I ended up telling Jackson everything, on purpose, about how I got into all this stuff. He was quiet, before nodding to himself.**

**“Okay, do you think you’ll be okay, you know, with your ADHD?” He asks, and I worry my lip. Will he not want to go if I’m not? “Because if you aren’t, we can always leave early, no biggie. But, we need to bring pillows, blankets, reserve the seating, have sufficient snacks, and not just the outrageously priced candy from the concession stand, though they do have a cafe and pizza place inside. Maybe if we sneak in some carrots, wait no, carrots crunch. Who wants to go to the theater and her the sounds of someone crunching on a carrot? No one, that’s who! Broccoli? No, it’s still crunchy—” and I laughed. We sat down right then, Jackson reserved two seats for us, and I started compiling a list of must-haves. Jackson was adamant about having healthy snack, because he thinks it’ll help with my ADHD, and I couldn’t help but smile. I was always the one to take care of the food at the house, concerned for the Sheriff’s heart. This is the first time someone has ever cared about my diet.**

 

* * *

“ _Definitely,” I laugh, nodding as we pull into the parking lot. It takes a while to get to our seat, but we are so lucky that we reserved the seats. Poor fools who thought they could just waltz in here._

_“I know the best seats are in the very center, but we didn’t reserve early enough for that, and I thought this would be better in case we need to leave,” Jackson says, pulling out the pillows from his backpack, and blankets from mine. I laugh._

_“Um, reclining chairs in the in a recluse corner, or a stuffy chair in the middle of the crowded theater, hmmm, which is better?”_

_“Yeah, well, whatever,” Jackson grumbles, but I know he’s smiling._

_“Thanks for taking me Jax,” I say quietly, “It means a lot that you came with me,”_

_“Pfft, a weekend of Tolkien movies with someone who can understand my ranting and critiques? I think you have it worse,” He flashes a shit-eating-grin my way. “I talk, A LOT, during the movies. Why do you think I had to resort to blackmail with Danny,” I scoff. “And seriously,” Jackson says softly. “I like spending time with you, you’re not just a packmate to me, it’s like I finally have a brother,” He smiles. My throats closes up and my eyes begins to water._

_“Jesus, Jackson,” I laugh, “You can’t just drop things like that on me!” He laughs back, and I shake my head. “But you’re wrong Jackson,” I say. “I’ve had brothers, a lot of them. Even after the biological ones left, I thought I had Scott, I-I thought he wouldn’t leave like the others, that we’d always have each other,” I breathe in, clearing my throat. “But brothers don’t last. Brothers, at least mine, they...they hurt you. Leave you. They don’t care. You,” I say finally looking at Jackson. “You’re so much better than them Jax, it’s like you understand my soul. And not in that cheesy-bullshit-romance-kinda-way, but in a way that I can appreciate being with you for the sake of enjoying your company and because you’re you. I don’t try and fix you so we can go riding off into the sunset together, but I just want you to be happy. It’s like, I understand everything that has happened with and to you, I know the darkest parts of you, but it has nothing on the good that’s in you. I can see it, and it’s always there. You deserve to be happy. And for some crazy reason, you like being around me too. You think you can see the good in me too. No one, not even my own family, has done that, so thank you.” I tell him. He looks at me with glassy eyes, smiling._

_“One day,” He tells me, “You’ll not only accept that you aren’t evil,” He tells me. “But you’ll finally see how good you truly are,” I don’t have a response to that, so I just smile at Jackson._

_“Jackson?” Someone calls, and he pauses before turning to his right. My eyes follow, and my heart breaks. Right there, right across from us, is Scott and his pack. “Dude!” He smiles at us, or rather at Jackson,” “Why haven’t you been to any of the pack meetings I’ve invited you to? Lydia has been texting you, hasn’t she? Or Danny?” Yes, and that is the sound of my heart breaking. I look to the wall at my left, wanting to shrink away into the chair._

_“I’ve told Lydia,” Jackson drawls, hand reaching over to grab mine. “I have a pack of my own, so I am not really interested in following yours,” He says slowly, “But thanks for the offer,” Jackson adds, smiles, as if remembering Peter telling him to be diplomatic. The whole pack is there, even Derek’s side. Scott is farthest, followed by Allison, Issac, Boyd, Erica, Derek, Lydia, and Danny at the end. They just arrived, and are still settling in. I tighten my hold on Jackson, afraid he’ll leave after seeing what he’s missing._

_“But do they have a True Alpha?” Allison jokes, holding both Issac and Scott’s hands. Danny, stares at our hands, but just smiles._

_“Nah,” Jackson shrugs. “We have something better,” He smirks at them, especially after the smile drops off most of their faces. It looks like Lydia is about to ask about that statement, but Danny cuts her off._

_“I was hoping that we wouldn’t be able to see the movies together this year,” Danny snickers, tone playful “That I wouldn’t have to hear you rant again,”_

_“I think you mean you were afraid you were going to miss my genius critique of the movies.” Jackson sniffs in mock smugness. I smile at the banter, happy that Jackson and Danny’s friendship is still strong._

_“Ugh,” Scott groans loudly. “You sound just like Stilinski!” And then I go blank. Stilinski, He says, not even Stiles anymore._

_“Great,” Jackson snaps, “Great minds think alike, couldn’t expect you to appreciate genius McCall,”_

_“Whoa!” Scott holds his hands up, gesturing that he surrenders, but scoffs. “What’s eat—”_

_“So when me and my packmate, STILES,” Jackson pulls me into Scott’s view, and the pack visibly pales, except for Danny. “Decide to talk about how the movies are different from the books, or how the director should have done something a certain way, or CGI vs makeup, please forgive us if you don’t understand. Only geniuses would get it,”_

_“Oh, uh, hey Stiles,” Scott says, giving me a sorry excuse of a wave. “Didn’t see you there,” I say nothing, taking in the view of everyone’s faces looking at me. Most of them are shocked, Danny smiles what looks like a genuine smile, Erica and Boyd stare at me with wide eyes and something I can’t name at the top of my head, and Derek, who looks at me with an intensity that makes me uncomfortable. “What are you doing here?”_

_“It’s my birthday,” I tell him, throat aching. I just want to flee, to go back to that gym from so long ago, and hide away from the world. But. I look to Jackson, who was so willing excited for this. Who called me his brother. Who is more than a brother to me. “I’m celebrating it with my friend and packmate, Jax,” I smile at him, who smiles back at me, before looking back to Scott. “Now, if you don’t mind, we are trying to have some pack bonding time.”_

_“Uh, how ’bout we move over?” Issac suggests, and Scott nods, looking relieved. Everyone moves over to the other side of the row, everyone but Danny. “Danny!” Issac calls down._

_“Nah uh,” Danny shakes his head, pouting a bit. “I am comfortable right here,”_

_“But the Pack is over here,” Allison frowns._

_“And I’m only “pack” when you guys need something. No, I like helping you guys and hanging with you guys, but,” Danny sticks his thumb in Jackson’s direction, “But I’m Jackson’s best friend, and seeing as there is no threat—”_

_Scott says something that causes Jackson to growl. Danny stares flatly at both Scott and Jackson._

_“Seeing as both of you are being childish, I’ll just hang with Jackson. I’ve put up with him and his tantrums for years, being a super just makes it happen more often,” Jackson scoffs, but I can tell he’s pleased. “If that’s okay with you,” Danny says, turning to look at me. I look at him, wide-eyes, shocked._

_“Uh, sure, if Jackson’s cool with it,” I turn to Jackson, who looks torn. “Think you can handle a way three-way?” I ask, smirking when I see one of the pack members choke on their drink. Danny laughs, blushing in surprise, as Jackson smirks right back._

_“It wouldn’t be my first,” Jackson responds, causing everyone listening to gag, except Lydia, who rolls her eyes._

_“Ugh,” I shake my head, trying to shake the image out of my head._

_“Good for you Danny,” Jackson says, tone teasing, “You don’t need no man telling you what to do, you’re your own independent man,”_

_“I can’t believe I actually missed you,” Danny groans, but still smiles, “I missed this thing last year, so I’m happy to get to spend it with you this year,” He says softly. They share a private smile, and it’s utterly cute. I roll my eyes. Boys. Obvious boys._

_“Pass the Rasinets,” I demand. Jackson frowns, and Danny raises an eyebrow in question. “My birthday!” I remind Jackson, “You said one choice of unlimited sugary treats, and I chose Rasinets!” He groans, passing me two huge boxes and a bottle of water._

_“Gross,”_

_“Hey!” I elbow him, and Danny chuckles softly. Jackson starts complaining how my Rasinets shouldn’t even count as candy. “Shush, the movie will start soon,” I warn as Jackson throws a pudding cup at both Danny and me._

* * *

 

“Stiles,” A voice I automatically recognize as Derek’s, calls me, as I grip Jackson. His voice is soft, and that makes everything worse. The only time he spoke softly to me was when we thought Jennifer was going to kill—

 

“No!” I yell. “I can fix this, I can fix this, I can fix this!” I cry, more of mantra for myself than at Derek, or any of the others who have showed up as the venom receded from Scott’s system.

 

“Let this go,” Scott says as I hear him approach, quickly throw a handful of Mountain Ash, and demand it circle around Jackson and me. “Ugh! Stiles! It’s too late! You killed—”

 

“I said shut up!” I scream, turning to glare at him. “Stay away from us!” I turn back to Jackson and whimper. I can feel my chest tighten, my breathes become shallow gasps. “Come on, Stilinski,” I gasp, “Pull yourself together!”

 

Suddenly, I remember a mantra my mother taught me when I was small. I wipe my tears out of my face, repeating it for the first time in forever.

 

**_Ziemia, drzewa, ziemia, życie_ **

**_Earth, trees, ground, life_ **

****

**_Powietrze, wiatr, spokój_ **

**_Air, wind, peace_ **

****

**_Woda, ocean, deszcz, uzdrowienie_ **

**_Water, ocean, rain, healing_ **

****

**_Ogień, ciepło, siła_ **

**_Fire, warmth, strength_ **

****

**_Poczuj mnie_ **

**_Feel me_ **

****

**_Bądź ze mną_ **

**_Be with me_ **

****

**_Mój Iskra_ **

**_My Spark_ **

 

I repeat it a few time, whimpering as I seeing Jackson’s chest rise falter before starting up again. I try to ignore the noise in the back, Scott yelling at me, Deaton telling him to wait. I look as blood drips down Jackson’s face. This is my fault, all my fault.

 

 _No_ , a voice says, making me stop. It was Jackson’s.

 

“ _You already know that,_ ” It’s a memory, one from when Peter left. giving me. “ _Ri told you, it’s not your fault. That your spark is just protecting you so no one uses your body against your will,”_

My spark. It follows my will. If-If I want to help him...but it’s never helped anyone else before, but this isn’t just anyone. This is Jackson, Jax. I look at his pale face, and choke back another sob.

 

I want this more than anything.

 

More than my own protection.

 

Closing my eyes, I place my hands on Jackson’s pale, cold, bleeding face. More than I want protection, more than I want control, I want Jackson to live. Not only do I want Jackson to live, I want him to be stronger, to thrive, to be happy. Right now, more than anything else in world, I want this for Jackson.

 

I don’t need to open my eyes to know a light is shooting out of me, even if I didn’t feel it, the audible gasps from behind me tells me that something is happening. I fill this warmth building up until I it’s so much I need to open my mouth so it can spill out. I need to focus, focus on what I want.

 

I want Jackson to live, to laugh, to be strong, safe. I want him to go to school. I want him to find his passion, and live his life fulfilling it. I want him to be happy, in everything. I want him and Peter to build and have a wonderful relationship. I want them to be father and son, not just biologically, not just in title. I want Jackson to flourish. For all of this, Jackson needs to live. So heal him.

 

I feel the warmth leave me completely, and I’ve never felt more cold, more hallow. Opening my eyes, I gasp. I was expecting a white light, like what happened earlier, but no. What’s around Jackson, what’s entering him, is a a mix of a soft yellow, surrounded by pinks and reds, and white in the middle. It’s so beautiful, like a sunrise. And that was in me. I watch as the warmth fills Jackson, as his body heals faster than I ever thought it could. The bleeding stops, his body looks firmer somehow, sturdier. The pain, the difficulty breathing, it’s all being erased from him. I watch in silence, kneeling next to him, as he becomes better. I smile, tears falling down my face once more, of happiness. His mouth opens and the lights flows out and back into me. As it leaves Jackson completely, he opens his eyes and watches as my warmth, my spark, comes back to me. He stares at me wide eyed, and I laugh once it’s back inside completely. Faster than I could blink Jackson is hugging me.

 

“Whoa,” He says, pulling back. I can feel the warmth settling inside me, “What was that?” He asks.

 

“I asked my spark to heal you, well, begged, commanded, same thing,” I shrug, looking aroundat the Mountain Ash circle. “I-I got scared that you were going to...” I shakes my head, “And it would be my fault, but then I remember you saying it wouldn’t be my fault—”

 

“Damn straight,” Jackson says, cutting me off, but I continue as if he hadn’t interrupted me.

 

“And how my spark only does that cause I want it to protect me, I thought, rather protect me, I want you to live,” I smile, tears running down my face. “So my warmth went to you, to heal you,” I laugh a small wet laugh, before crying again, hanging my head. “I’m so sorry!”

 

“Hey,” Jackson says, hugging me once more. “None of that, you told me to run, and I ignored your warning, this isn’t your fault.” I put my head between Jackson’s neck and shoulder, taking in his scent as I try to calm my breathing.

 

“But Scott,” I gasp out, around my tears, as there is shuffling in the back. “H-He said I killed you!”

 

“Yeah, well Scott is an idiot, and you are one too, if you believe him.” Jackson says, rubbing circles on my back, making me laugh a little, especially after hearing Scott squawk. “You just saved so many lives from the owl-vampire-thing, and you saved my life.” He smiles, “Despite everything that happened tonight, I’ve literally never felt better.” He stands up, dragging me with him.

 

“As nice as this is,” Scott says, causing us to look at him. The whole packs seems to be there, including Danny, who has tears running down his smiling face. They all have flashlights on them, so it’s easy to see their faces in the night light. “Do you mind telling us what just happened?” He asks. I roll my eyes at him, turning away.

 

“Yes, actually,” Jackson says. “We do mind, since it’s none of your business,” He says turning to me.

 

“As Alpha of Beacon Hills, I demand to know!”

 

“Not my Alpha,” Jackson shrugs. “Until my Alpha tells me to, I am not obligated to tell you any information. And neither is Stiles,” Scott rolls his eyes, before looking at me.

 

“I could run you off the land,” He threatens. Jackson laughs.

 

“I have more right to this land than you McCall, ask you vet about that,” Jackson says narrowing his eyes at Deaton.

 

Stiles?” He says in a way that feels like I’m being scolded by my mother and my teachers, as if I’m being purposefully obtuse. “Bro—”

 

“No,” I say quickly, “Both you and Deaton were nothing but mean and accusatory towards me. Yeah, Derek was trying to get me to stop, but at least he was being nice about it,” I shake my head. “I’m not part of your pack so you don’t get to demand answers from me,” I tell him firmly.

 

“Now, Mr. Stilinski—” Deaton tries to placate me, but I scoff.

 

“I’m sorry, but if you’re looking for a Mr. Stilinski, try the police department, there’s probably at least three there now, and probably another two at the Stilinski residence.”

 

“Fine!” Scott yells, before walking away. “Let’s go,” Issac and Allison follow dutifully, Lydia stares at us for a minute, before she too leaves.

 

“Mind breaking the circle?” Jackson asks, “I think we could probably go for some curly fries right about now,”

 

“God, yes!” I laugh, lifting my hand to break the circle.

 

“Great, I parked the car—”

* * *

 

**_Jackson’s POV_ **

 

“Great,” I smile, “I parked the car—”

 

Stiles goes stiff looking at me, before his eyes roll back into his head, and he hits the ground before I can finish my sentence. I gasp in shock. He starts convulsing, I don’t know what to do.

 

“Stiles!” I scream along with someone else, and I fall to my knees, unsure what to do. His mouth looks like it’s turning blue. I lift my hand hold him in place,

 

“He’s having a seizure!” A girl, Erica, yells, running over to us. She pushes my hand aside. “Do NOT hold him down!” She hisses. She looks at the ground quickly, moving away any rocks and sticks, before turning him to his side. “We need to keep him from choking,” She explains, as I look on, helpless. “Someone time this!” She demands, and Danny pulls out his phone. The jerking lasts about two more minutes, before his body stops. “He needs to go to the hospital,” she tells me quickly. I nod, as I carefully pick him up. We, Erica, Danny, Stiles, and I, head to my car as fast as I can without jostling Stiles. “Boyd said he and Derek will meet us at the hospital,”

 

“Wonderful,” I mutter, sighing before looking at Erica in the rear view mirror. She catches my eye.

 

“This is recovery position, well, as best as I can do while he’s in the car.” She explains.

 

“Thanks,” I tell her, driving my way to the hospital, and she smiles in response. “I-I need to call Peter,” I tell them, pulling out my cellphone with a busted screen.

 

“I’ll do it, you focus on driving,” Danny says from next to, I nod, sighing in relief as I hand him my phone. It connects to Bluetooth right away.

 

“Jackson,” Peter says, answering the phone on the first ring. “What are you doing up right n—”

 

“Stiles had a seizure!” I cut him off, pulling up to the hospital. “I’m pulling up to the hospital now, you need to come home.”

 

“On my way, be there in a few hours,” Peter says about to hang up.

 

“Be safe!” I say quickly and it silent for a quick second before Peter responds.

 

“You too,” Peter says softly, before clicking off. Pulling up to the Emergency entrance, Erica and Danny rush out to carry Stiles. I run ahead of them to alert the staff about Stiles.

* * *

 

I’m walking around the hallway, tired. It’s more mental exhaustion than physical. I finished up all the paperwork and insurance stuff about an hour ago. Stiles had woke up briefly, the doctors fussing over him, before passing out again. I’m pacing the hallway, waiting for Peter to show up. Stiles had been moved to his own room, and I am not allowed in right now, because I’m not an emergency contact, since I wasn’t eighteen when they filled out the paperwork the first time. I tried to tell them he was my brother, as Peter was both his and my guardian, but they still wouldn’t let me in. A nurse is in there right now, giving me the stink eye because I keep yelling at her from outside the room about how to do her job.

 

“Jackson,” Danny groans, “Sit down!”

 

“I just want to make sure that she’s doing her job right,” I say defensively, narrowing my eyes right back at the nurse. “They get sloppy at this time,” The nurse rolls her eyes at me.

 

“Hey,” Erica says, “Concentrate on his scent,” She tells me. “No pain, his heart beat is steady, well for Stiles, and there is no blood,” I do as she tells me, and sigh a little in relief. “Boyd’s bringing us coffee,” Eric’s says, scenting the hallway once more.

 

“Derek’s coming,” Danny says.

 

“How did you know?” I ask, surprised. Danny lifts up his cellphone.

 

“Texts” He laughs, and soon we’re all laughing and being shushed by the nurse.

 

“Jackson,” Derek’s voice hits my ears before he shows up. “How is he?”

 

“He woke up, but fell asleep soon after,” I sigh. “What took so long?” I ask. “I thought you were right behind us.”

 

“Had to drop off Deaton, and questioned him.” I scoff.

 

“Get anything?” Derek makes a noise between a whine and a grunt, something I’d expect from a teenager, but not him. It’s so ridiculous Erica, Boyd, and I start laughing. Danny looks at us in confusion. “Derek’s whining,” I tell him, “Like, think puppy whining,”

 

“What?” Danny laughs, surprised.

 

“Am not,” Derek grumbles. “I do not sound like a puppy,” He says, which has us laughing again, and this time Erica tells Danny.

 

“On the contrary, nephew,” Peter’s voice and scent suddenly flood the hallway. I look around trying to find him. Finally, I look at Stiles’ room, and focus, and there are two heartbeats inside. I get up before Erica or Derek could respond and I rush inside, and am able smile in relief when I see Peter. “You still sound like a pup to me,” He says smiling at me. As soon as he stands up I race to give him a bone-crushing hug. “Well, hello to you too,” Peter mumbles and I whine this time, one of relief and happiness.

 

“You’re back,” I whisper, throat closing. Peter wraps his arms around me, and I feel myself sag.

 

“I missed you,” He says holding me, and I smile, a knot somewhere I didn’t know I had loosens.

 

“Months, Peter,” I tell him, still not letting go. “You’ve been gone for months, weave both missed you.”

 

“I know,” Peter sighs, “And daily video calls still don’t make it easier,” I shake my head. Someone clears their throat, and I peek back to see Boyd, Erica, Derek and Danny all there watching us, Danny with a raised eyebrow.

 

“Uh, guys,” I say, still physically unable to let go of Peter, “You may know Peter,” I say, tilting my head in his direction, “As the person who made the horrendous decision to bite Scott McCall,” Peter, Derek, and Danny all grunt at that, “But what you may not know is that he is also my biological father!” I say, smiling. “Tada!”

 

“Dude!” Danny says rushing up to us excitedly, as Erica and Boyd’s eyes widen in shock.

 

“Oh fuck,” Derek says looking between the two of us. “That’s why I bite you,” He says, groaning.

 

I am finally able to let go of Peter, without feeling like crying, but I stay close by him.

 

“What?”

 

“What Derek is eloquently trying to say is, because you smell liked Hale blood, underneath the Whittemore stench and scented hair products,” I roll my eyes, “When you wanted the bite, it was impossible to refuse a family member while drunk on Alpha power,” Derek rolls his eyes this time.

 

“I was not drunk on power,”

 

“Yeah you were,” We all say.

 

“Yeah you were, SourWolf,” Stiles rasps. We all rush to his side. “Mister ‘I’m the Alpha now’”. I scoff. Stiles looks around.

 

“How are you feeling?” Peter asks. Stiles looks at him silently for a minute, enough to make us all uncomfortable.

 

“This one fucking weird dream,” He finally says. “Why am I even dreaming that I’m in a hospital? I mean it makes sense why I have you two,” He says looking at Peter and me, “In my dreams, I usually do. But you four,” He turns to the others, “Well, Danny okay, but the others...”I shake my head, smiling. “Danny,” Stiles frowns, eyes glazed, obvious he is either too drugged up.

 

“Y-Yes Stiles?” Danny stutters, uncertain.

 

“Are you and Jackson dating?” He asks. Both of us flush, looking elsewhere. “Huh, usually you’re dating in my dreams,”

 

“And why are you dreaming of us dating?” I ask, embarrassed.

 

“Because you two are too dumb to do it in real life, even though you obviously want to, and I ship your cheesy romance, okay?” Stiles narrows his eyes, grumbling about how we have more chemistry than most couples on tv. I feel myself heat up, “Danny! Do you like Jackson?” Stiles asks bluntly. “As more than a friend?” Danny looks at me, bright red, smiling.

 

“Yes?” He says, and despite the embarrassment, his heart is steady.

 

“Jackson, do—”

 

“Yes!” I say quickly, too quickly, and turn away, red in the face.

 

“And both agree that if for some odd reason, it doesn’t work out, you too will still be friends?” Stiles glares us into submission. “Good, now I pronounce you boyfriends, or well dating.” He nods, smiling, looking up at Peter. “I got your son a boyfriend,” He giggles. “Family dinner! Meet the boyfriend!” Danny blushes and Peter sighs, shaking his head. “I’m the best wingman, even in my dreams,” Stiles snickers.

 

“Shut up,” I smile.

 

“But you three,” He narrows his eyes. “Weird,” He says, looking at Erica and Boyd. He turns to Derek, “This is not how I usually dream of you,” He pouts, and the tips of Derek’s ears turn red.

 

“What are you doing dreaming of me, huh?” Derek asks, sounding more confident than he smells. Stiles stops and stares around the room.

 

“Nope,” He shakes his head. “The cake is a lie! This is a trap!” Everyone laughs, but Stiles yawns.

 

“Okay,” Peter says. “Night time for all little Stiles-es,”

 

“Not little,” Stiles grumbles, pouting as he closes his eyes. “Am big Stiles!” He says softly. Peter looks at us after he falls asleep.

 

“So what happened?” Peter asks, to which I sit down, sighing, before I recount the whole thing with the Strzyga. After about twenty minutes, with some clarification from Derek or Boyd, Peter plops down next to me. “Well, at least you have good timing,” Peter says. I raise an eyebrow, and he smiles. “I got who I was looking for,”

 

“That’s good?” I ask.

 

“Yes,” Peter says somberly. “She’s dead now,” The room falls quiet.

 

“Who was she?” Derek asks.

 

“Peter looks a bit ashamed, before glancing at me. I sigh.

 

“My birth mother!” I say, not really a hundred percent sure, but pretty certain.

 

“Yes,” Peter nods. “I went to talk to her, she attacked me, hoping she could force me to tell her where Malia is, so she could kill her and regain her Were-Coyote powers that where passed down.”

 

“Did...Did she ask about me?” Peter looks at me, softly shaking his head. I nod.

 

“Don’t be too upset, if she wanted to know about you, it would have only been to kill you,” Peter says. “You are worth more than that,”

 

“That’s why it took you so long?” I ask.

 

“Well,” Peter swallows, looking at Derek, “I did run into someone else while I was away.” Derek frowns.

 

“Okay,” He sighs, “I’ll bite, who?” Peter sighs again, rubbing a hand over his face.

 

“Kate,” He says quietly.

 

“No!” Derek whisper, scent turning scared. I frown.

 

“But you killed her,” I said, “We saw it,”

 

“Well,” Peter says, “Turns out she didn’t die, but the cut was deep enough to turn her.

 

“She’s a wolf now?!” Derek asks, horrified.

 

“No,” Peter shakes his head. “She was a Were-Jaguar, and a fucking nightmare.” He tells us. “She took Cora, thinking no one would notice, but of course I’ve been keeping an eye out for her,” Peter scoffs. “Don’t worry, nephew.” Peter says, looking Derek in the eye. “I made sure to kill her this time, and burn the body.”

 

“Good,” Derek nods, looking a little lost.

 

“Well,” Peter says.

 

“What now ?” Derek groans.

 

“When I killed Kate I didn’t know,” Peter says, defensively.

 

“Know what?” Peter flashes his eyes at Derek, his Alpha red eyes.

 

“She was an Alpha,”

 

“Oh fuck,” I say.

 

“I’m in control this time,” Peter says quickly.

 

“That’s why we couldn’t hear or smell you,” I say.

 

“Correct, Jackson,” Peter smiles, and I preen. “But that’s not all. After Kate, Cora, well, she submitted to me,” Derek’s eyes widen.

 

“Does that mean—”

 

“She’s at the house now, along with another new pack member.” Derek goes stock still, staring at Peter, who he seems to be having a silent conversation with. “I can’t, Derek,” Peter says softly. Derek whines, a sound so heartbroken, it causes all of the other betas in the room to whimper, including me, “I can’t,” Peter says, shaking his head. “Stiles is pack, and you’ve hurt him. Adding any of you might cause dangerous tension.”

 

“I just want to be in Pack with Cora,” Derek whines, eyes glassy. “I won’t bother anyone,” He practically begs.

 

“You are part of Scott’s pack!” Peter shakes his head.

 

“No we aren’t,” Erica shakes her head. “Scott has us on some probation thing, that’s lasted since the Nogitsune,” She says quickly, looking at Boyd and Derek. “The only reason we even stick around McCall is for Issac,”

 

“We didn’t even want to break the pack bond with Stiles,” Boyd says, his deep voice quieting everyone else. “McCall said if we didn’t, then we couldn’t stick around. Derek, Erica, and I decided that we had to stick together, and that meant doing anything for Issac. But Issac...he never bonded with Stiles, he never felt that pain from the bonds breaking. Derek was against the idea, tried to talk McCall out of it, but for the sake of Issac’s happiness, gave in.”

 

“Yeah,” Erica says bitterly, “and now Issac doesn’t even notice if we’re there or not,”

 

“Well,” Peter says, looking between the three Weres and Stiles. “Shit,”

 

 


End file.
